


The Game

by Ink_Filled_Dreams



Series: The Game [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Background Poly, Betrayal, Fan Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Killing, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder Mystery, Polyamorous relationship, Psychological Horror, Sorry Not Sorry, Survival Horror, most of the relationships in the tags are platonic, non-graphic description of corpses, some fluffy moments, there's almost no romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Filled_Dreams/pseuds/Ink_Filled_Dreams
Summary: Twenty one students wake up one morning to find a mysterious email, supposedly sent out by their headmaster, telling them to meet up in the main hall.Everything seems normal at first, then the projector turns on.With only four little words, their entire lives are shaken to the core:Let's play a game.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin, Liu Yang Yang/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun, Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Series: The Game [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772347
Comments: 293
Kudos: 255





	1. Indigo's Game

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dollhouse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342002) by [SaltandJinJin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltandJinJin/pseuds/SaltandJinJin). 



> This work is partially inspired by the fic listed above. I got the idea a while back, but they're the ones that inspired me to actually write this!
> 
> This hasn't been beta read or anything, so sorry for any errors!

Something seemed off when Jeno woke up. He couldn’t explain why, because nothing was different from usual. He woke up in his dorm with his roommates, Jaemin, who was still fast asleep despite his blaring alarm, and Renjun, who was already dressed and sitting cross legged on his bed, phone in hand. It was six thirty two, which meant classes started in an hour and twenty eight minutes, which meant he had to get Jaemin up soon, since it took him forever to get ready. Nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, it was the most normal morning he had experienced in a while.

“Morning,” Renjun said, noticing that Jeno was awake. “I started coffee already, hoping the smell would wake Jaemin up, but apparently it’s not strong enough.”

“It’s okay, I got it,” Jeno said, crouching down by the sleeping boy’s bed. He shook Jaemin’s shoulder, smiling to himself when Jaemin whined, rolling over to hide his face. “You don’t have time to sleep in, it’s a Thursday,” Jeno said, shaking him once more.

Jaemin said something unintelligible, but then he sat up, his eyes still clenched shut. “It’s too bright,” he whined, hiding his face in his hands. “Close the blinds!”

“No,” Renjun said before Jeno could even stand to do as the pink haired boy asked. “Get up and close them yourself if you want.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “We have a meeting in the main hall in twenty minutes, by the way.”

“That would’ve been nice to know earlier,” Jeno said sarcastically.

Renjun shrugged, setting down his phone. “I got an email from the headmaster this morning, saying there was an emergency meeting and that our entire class is required to attend. I don’t know what it’s about, but the email didn’t sound all that urgent.”

“That means you need to get dressed,” Jeno said, turning back to Jaemin, who had yet to move - or open his eyes, at that rate. “Or do you want everyone else to know you were pajamas with puppies on them?”

Jaemin opened his eyes then, but only to shoot Jeno a withering glare. “I’m up, give me a minute,” he grumbled, his bed head making it hard to take him seriously.

Though it took a lot of convincing, they eventually got Jaemin up and caffeinated despite his protests, and by six fifty four, the three of them were in the main hall, where half of their classmates were already there and waiting.

Jeno sat down next to Haechan, who gave him a friendly wave. “Did you get the ominous text, too?”

“Renjun did,” he said. “I haven’t checked my phone yet today.”

Haechan’s roommates, Taeil and Kun, were there as well, chatting with Taeyong and Yuta. For a second I couldn’t find Jungwoo, but then I spotted him along the wall, next to his boyfriend, Lucas. Surprisingly, Chenle and Jisung were already there as well. Usually they were late.

Shortly before seven, the group from dorm R2 and R4 - Hendery, Yangyang, and Xiaojun, and Ten, Winwin, and Jaehyun respectively - hurried through the door. It wasn’t until seven o’four when the last of their classmates came in, not seeming to be in any rush.

Johnny and Mark were talking loudly about something, while Doyoung hung behind them, still looking half asleep. He slumped into the nearest chair, fighting back a yawn.

Jeno kept checking the door, expecting the headmaster to come in any second, but five minutes later he still wasn’t there. To his left, Jaemin was starting to get fidgety, and Jeno wondered if they’d half to start class late.

The projector hummed to life, making half the room jump. Doyoung rubbed his eyes and looked up at the screen, which now displayed a single line of text: _Let’s play a game._

“What the heck?” Haechan mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Jaemin giggled, though Jeno didn’t find the situation funny. Unnerving, maybe, but not funny. “Is this what they meant by ‘urgent meeting’?” Jaemin snickered, and then the screen turned a blinding bright white color, making Jeno wince.

 _Welcome, class 127_ , the words appeared on the screen, the sight making Jeno’s skin crawl. This was just _odd_. His gut feeling had been right. Something was wrong with today. _Are you ready to play a game?_

“Yes!” Chenle cheered, pumping his fist in the air. A few others let out half hearted sounds of agreement, though most of them look a little unsure. So Jeno wasn’t the only one who found this strange.

 _From now on, things are going to be different here_ , the words continued, and Jeno looked around, trying to see who was the one running this. No one had touched the projector, and it shouldn't have turned on, unless it was remote controlled somehow. _Your faculty members have all been...relieved of duty, so to speak, the headmaster included._

“Then how did he email us?” Lucas spoke up, which was silly, seeing as the slideshow had clearly been made beforehand.

 _I have taken control of the school now_ , the text went on, leaving Lucas’s question unanswered. _And I think it would be more fun if we skipped regular classes, and instead focus on something more important for your lives: survival skills._

Jeno’s blood went cold, and Jaemin’s smile - which had slowly been shrinking - fell away completely. “What...what does he mean by that?”

_I came up with a little game for us to play as a class. Think of it as a teamwork building exercise. Everyone is required to play, so don’t even think about trying to skip out on it! The rules are simple, but I’ll only explain them once, so listen up! Every night, at approximately nine p.m, one of you will get a text. I made sure it’s completely randomized, so I can still play along. If you get the special text, congratulations, you’re going to be the next killer! You’ll have exactly twenty four hours to kill one of your classmates and try to cover your tracks! Then everyone else will get twenty two hours to figure out who did it before the trial starts!_

Jeno didn’t understand. He must’ve seen that wrong, because he swore he had just read the word _kill_. Surely it didn’t think one of them would actually kill someone! Was it a prank? If it was, it wasn’t a funny one. It was just sick.

No one else spoke. They were all confused and freaked out, same as Jeno.

 _During the trial, everyone will vote for who they think is guilty, and whoever is voted off, whether they’re the killer or not, will be sentenced to death. The game will end when there are four players left, and then they’ll be free to leave! Think of it as your graduation ceremony, hahaha..._ the words read, and for some reason that seemed creepier than a real laugh would've sound. _The game will start tonight, nine p.m sharp! Good luck!_

The room hummed with static as the screen faded, leaving them all in stunned silence. Jeno’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find he had an email simply titled _game._ He clicked on it to find a recap of everything the words had said, all well as a few other rules: no trying to leave school grounds, no suicide, no murders of more than two, and no pairing up. Below the list of rules was written in bold: _breaking any of these rules will result in the immediate death of not only you, but all of your classmates._ There was also a schedule attached to it, which was mostly empty minus a required group breakfast and curfew, as well as trial times and another reminder of when that accursed text would be sent out. Everyone else was on their phone now as well - they must’ve all received the same email.

Then his phone buzzed for a second time. This time, it was a text from an unknown number.

_Hello Peach!_

_I’m sure you’re confused, but don’t worry, so is everyone else! Please don’t disclose your color with anyone else, it’s a code word just in case I need to communicate with you in the future and can’t use your real name._

_Please make sure you read over the email I sent out, it’ll explain things in more detail. You guys are free to do as you wish for the rest of the day. The first killer will be chosen tonight._

_Just a word of motivation: if you’re the killer and don’t kill someone within twenty four hours, the entire school will be burned to the ground and you’ll all die._

_Also, I suggest turning your phone to silent, unless you want your roommates to hear your phone go off at nine if you get a text ;)_

_Good luck, and watch your back!_

_\- With love, Indigo_

Jeno slid his phone back into his pocket, hands trembling. By tomorrow, someone would be dead. There was no way around it, at least none that he could see. Next to him, Jaemin was trembling, holding his phone against his chest and staring at the floor with wide eyes. Jeno wrapped an around his shoulders, knowing it wouldn’t help in the long run, but maybe it would help him feel better, even if it was just a bit.

“I’m scared,” Jaemin said, voice shaking. “I don’t want to do this. I want to leave. Can’t we just leave?” He asked, and Jeno felt his heart break a little bit, because Jaemin was always so positive and cheerful. Seeing him like this, afraid and with his eyes full of despair, made Jeno want to cry.

“The doors are probably locked,” Jeno said slowly. “I...I think this was planned in advance. Whoever is behind this would’ve expected us to try and run. We can always check, but...don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

“I’ll go check,” Lucas said, apparently overhearing us.

“Wait,” Yangyang said when he stood up. “Xiaojun and I will come with you. It’s safer to be in a group.”

Lucas shook his head. “No need. None of you are a threat yet.” Then he left, his words leaving a sour taste in Jeno’s mouth. Even though none of them had been chosen as a killer yet didn’t mean he was safe. Why was he so adamant about going alone?

 _Wait, why am I already getting suspicious of everyone? These guys are my friends! I’m becoming paranoid,_ Jeno thought to himself, hating the fact that he had to think like this now.

When Lucas returned, he confirmed what Jeno had been afraid of: the main doors were locked, same as all of the windows he tried. No doubt every other escape route had been taken care of as well. They were trapped.

They had no choice but to play Indigo’s twisted game.


	2. The Game Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're all referred to by their stage names because I didn't want to have to spell Ten's real name so many times, and I wanted it to be consistent with everyone. Since they're all friends, they call each other by their nicknames (their stage names).

Kun sat in his bed, phone in hand, watching as the time slowly ticked closer and closer to nine. Haechan was curled up in bed already across from him, phone lighting up his face, and though Kun couldn’t see Taeil from down here, he had no doubt he was up in his top bunk, phone on as well. He held his breath as the time finally changed to nine.

A minute passed, then two.

No notification popped up.

He let out a sigh of relief, and set his phone down on his bedside table, trying his best not to cry, because the thought of killing one of his friends pained him greater than anything else had. If he had been chosen, he might’ve lost it.

Now all he had to do was keep his roommates safe through the night.

-

Jeno woke up with the uncanny feeling that something was off.

He sat up and rubbed the achy spot between his brows, then let out a sob as the memories of the day before came crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

The room smelt like coffee, he noticed when he had collected himself, and sure enough, he peeked down from his top bunk he saw Renjun sitting on the edge of his mattress, a pot of fresh coffee already being brewed on the counter.

Jeno climbed down from his bed, and Renjun looked up from his phone, his eyes red as if he had been crying.

“Hey,” he said weakly. “Jaemin isn’t up yet, but I figured I’d let him sleep. Better than thinking about…” he trailed off, and Jeno nodded, understanding what he meant.

“I get it,” Jeno said, sitting down next to Renjun. “But we’ll have to get him up before nine, when breakfast starts.”

They were both silent. For a split second, Jeno wondered what would happen if one of his roommates were the killer. Renjun had the perfect opportunity to kill him now, and it would be easy to pin the blame on Jaemin if he tried. Yet Jeno trusted Renjun. Even if he were the killer, he wouldn’t kill him or Jaemin, he was sure of it.

“What do we do if we get to breakfast and only twenty of us are there?” Renjun asked eventually. “Do we go search for the body?”

“I don’t know,” Jeno said helplessly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Renjun nodded silently, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. “I hate this stupid game. I really, really hate it.”

“I know,” Jeno said, glancing up at Jaemin, who was still under a pile of blankets, only the top of his head visible. “I hope nothing happens to us. It’s selfish, I know, but I hope the three of us make it. I wouldn’t be able to go on if I lost one of you, I think. I’d lose my mind.”

“Jaemin especially,” Renjun said, his voice now laced with amusement. “Right?”

Jeno flushed, his gaze shooting over to Renjun’s smug face. “No, of course not! I couldn’t bear to lose either of you!”

“Even though I’m not as cute as Jaemin?” Renjun teased, and Jeno elbowed him, the room suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot.

“When did I ever say Jaemin is cute? And when did I say you weren’t?”

Renjun snickered loudly, and the pile of blankets covering Jaemin moved. Jeno shot his friend a glare, though there was no heat behind it. He was glad they were still able to joke around despite everything that was going on. Hopefully that never changed.

Jaemin climbed out of bed, glanced at his phone, then scowled. “Oh right,” he said, and sat back on his heels to rub his sleep filled eyes. “We’re playing that stupid game. Please tell me neither of you got a text last night.”

Renjun shook his head, and so did Jeno. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have admitted it, and neither would anyone else. That was like commiting suicide.

“I didn’t, either. See?” He pulled up his text history and held his phone out for the other two to see. The last text he had received was the one from Indigo that they had all got yesterday morning. Jeno saw the first few words of the text, even though he tried not to. _So he’s Mint, huh?_ “I was so afraid that I would! I could hardly fall asleep last night, even though I knew it wasn’t me. I really hope it’s no one in the left wing!”

“I don’t think it really matters,” Renjun said. “Even if their room is on the other side of the hallway, it doesn’t mean they can’t come over here. It would be smarter, actually. They’d look less suspicious that way.”

Jaemin frowned. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Sorry,” Renjun said. “I’m just trying to be realistic. No one is going to kill their roommate, or someone who is with them a lot, because it would look bad.”

“We should get ready for breakfast,” Jeno cut in, not wanting the conversation to go any further than it already had. “Come on, Jaemin, get dressed.”

Things fell back into their normal routine, bringing on a false sense of comfort. They went down to the cafeteria, where a breakfast of pancakes and eggs had already been served. Jeno hated how tense everyone seemed. Even though he was sure his roommates were safe, everyone else could be sitting there with a knife hidden in their sleeve.

Jeno sat down next to Jisung - someone he was sure couldn’t hurt him. Chenle sat on his other side, unusually quiet as he picked at his breakfast. Lucas watched the two of them carefully, occasionally glancing around at the rest of the table, watching for danger.

“How did you sleep?” Jisung asked, his voice small.

“Fine,” Jeno answered. It was true, actually. He had been able to sleep fairly well considering. “How about you guys?”

“Lucas was up watching the door most of the night,” Chenle said. “Jisung and I kept him company. None of us really got much sleep.”

Lucas did look exhausted, Jeno realized. His under eyes were dark, and his eyes were out of focus.

“Not true,” Jisung piped up. “You and Lucas fell asleep after four a.m! I tried to stay up for you, but I fell asleep shortly after. Thank goodness nothing happened.”

Jeno hadn’t even thought of watching the door. None of the dorms were locked, and night time seemed like the perfect opportunity to kill someone. There were security cameras, but the door to the surveillance room was locked - they had checked the day before - so it’s not like they could catch you.

Jeno couldn’t enjoy the meal, no matter how good it tasted. Jaemin picked at his food as well, not eating much.

It wasn’t until nine thirty when the last group arrived, which was Ten and Winwin. Jaehyun wasn’t with them.

Ten looked utterly distraught, his face wet with tears, and Winwin was shaking.

It didn’t take long for Jeno to piece together what had happened.

Winwin’s legs gave out, and Ten caught him. Ten’s hands were smeared with red, and some of it got on Winwin’s shirt. Jeno’s stomach turned, the bit of pancake he had eaten threatening to come right back up.

No one said anything at first, unable to look away from the blood staining the pair's clothes. Then Taeil cried, hiding his face in his hands as his entire body shook. Lucas slammed his fist against the table, making poor Jungwoo jump.

“I don’t know when it happened,” Ten choked out, looking like he was about to drop Winwin, who was still clinging to him as he tried to regain his footing. Taeyong jumped up to help, followed by Kun, whose mouth was set in a grim line.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong said, carefully slinging Winwin’s arm around his shoulders. “Just breathe. Here, let’s find somewhere for you two to sit.”

Once they were seated, Kun knelt down in front of Winwin, who looked ready to break down into tears at any moment. “Can you tell me what happened? I know it’s hard, but we need to know so we can find whoever did this.”

“I know,” Winwin said, inhaling shakily. “I’ll try to help. I just...I didn’t see anything. You see, Jaehyun had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. I remember him leaving, but I fell asleep before he got back. When I woke up, he wasn’t there. So I woke up Ten and we went to look for him. There...there was blood all over the floor. It got all over our socks.”

Kun placed a comforting hand on Winwin’s knee. “It’s okay,” he soothed, even as he visibly fought back tears.

“He was shoved into one of the stalls. He had been stabbed, it looked like. He had stab wounds all over his torso. It was awful. We covered him with a blanket and came down to tell everyone,” Winwin finished, voice breaking. “I thought this game was just a joke. I was hoping nothing would actually happen.”

Mark’s face had gone pale during Winwin’s story. “We should probably look at the crime scene,” he said, though he looked like he’d rather do anything else. “To see if we can find any clues about what happened and who did it.

“No one could’ve done it though, right?” Doyoung said. “None of us, at least. Whoever set this thing up, it was them, I’m sure of it!”

Everyone went quiet.

“Actually,” Yuta said eventually. “I think whoever set this up _is_ one of us.”

There was an outraged protest from Lucas, but Chenle shushed him, and Yuta continued.

“Do you remember what he said during that meeting? He talked about getting to play along...he’s one of us,” Yuta said. "He's in this room right now."

"When I find out which one of you is behind this, I'll kill you," Haechan spoke up, voice quiet but so full of hatred it made Jeno nervous. He really meant it. 

"Hey, no need to get so worked up," Mark said, and Haechan let out a bitter laugh.

"Jaehyun is dead. Who knows who will be next? It could be you, or Taeyong, or Jisung, or any one of us! If killing him would end this, I'd do it in a heartbeat!"

"Mark is right, we shouldn't get so wrapped up in this right now. We need to figure out who killed Jaehyun, and get the bathroom cleaned up. I know it sounds insensitive, but it's necessary," Renjun said. He was acting calm, but Jeno could hear the distress behind his words. "Just take a deep breath, okay?"

"Let's go see what we can find," Chenle said, pushing his plate away. "I doubt any of us are hungry anymore, anyways."

"I don't want to see it," Jisung said, his face pale. Chenle grabbed his hand, and the younger boy squeezed it tightly.

"I can stay outside with you," Chenle offered.

Taeyong sighed, rubbing his face as he tried to regain even an ounce of composure. "Why don't we just get this over with? Ten, please take us to the body."

They followed Ten, clumped together a bit too closely. Jeno was terrified of what they'd find, but he could bring himself to stay behind. It was his responsibility as a member of their class to help catch the killer, and the one behind this twisted game.

As Winwin had described, the floor was stained dark brown with blood, some of it splattered on the walls and mirror. Footprints - presumably belonging to Winwin and Ten - made a macabre trail all over the white tiles. Jaemin clutched onto Jeno's arm, which is something he would've enjoyed under different circumstances. Now it just wrenched at his heart.

"That's sick," Hendery said, voice dripping with disgust. Yangyang stood at his side, looking utterly miserable. There was something off about the way he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, almost defensively.

"I can clean it up once we're done looking for clues," Kun offered. No one argued with him.

"The body is in here," Ten said, stepping around the drying puddle in the middle of the floor. "I didn't see a weapon, but I'm assuming it's a knife. Here, we covered him, see?"

He knelt down by the blanket which hid the body of one of their friends. Jaemin hid his face in Jeno's shoulder, unable to look.

Jeno turned his head as soon as he caught sight of Jaehyun's corpse, the sight too much for him as well. Maybe he should've stayed outside with Chenle and Jisung.

"I can't believe the killer is here, in this very room, looking at his own handiwork," Johnny said, shaking his head. "How can you live with yourself?"

Yangyang winced, only fueling Jeno's suspicions even more. He had been acting strange all morning, as if he felt guilty about something. It made sense, but Jeno didn't want to believe it. Yangyang was too sweet to kill, right?

"Can we go back to our room now?" Jaemin asked, voice breaking. His grip on Jeno's arm tightened. "We all saw."

"I'm going to look for the weapon," Renjun said. "Jeno can stay with you, okay?"

Jeno led the pink haired boy from the bathroom, grateful for the excuse to leave. It was too much for him.

"I hate this," Jaemin said, sounding just like Renjun had earlier that morning. "Do you think this will be over after today? If we vote off the killer…"

"Another one will be chosen, and the game will continue. We have to play along, we don't have a choice," Jeno said, his voice reflecting how hopeless he felt on the inside.

He agreed with Jaemin and Renjun a hundred percent.

_I hate this game._

-

Lucas helped move Jaehyun's body into an unused classroom - there were a lot of them, seeing as everyone else at school had vanished other than their class - then wandered up and down the hallways with Jungwoo and Johnny. Renjun and Haechan had confirmed that one of the knives was missing from the kitchen, but none of them had found it yet. Lucas figured the killer had hidden it, along with his bloody clothes.

"There's no footprints, nothing is broken...it looks the same as always!" Jungwoo said in frustration. "What if we can't find anything? Do we just vote randomly?"

"I'm sure we'll find something," Johnny said, but he didn't sound as positive as usual. None of them had been acting like themselves since the news, Jisung and Chenle especially. They had returned to their room, refusing to help with the investigation. He knew they were scared, but he didn't like the fact that the two of them were alone. What if something happened while Lucas was patrolling the same hallway over and over again?

"I have to go," he said, and his boyfriend shook his head, eyes full of terror. 

"No, please don't! Taeyong said to stay in groups of three!"

"My roommates are alone," he argued. "They're both so small, it would be easy to overpower them. They shouldn't be alone. I have to watch them, I'm sorry. You and Johnny can return to the cafeteria, it'll be safer there. Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang are there making lunch. I'll go down there after I grab the other two."

Jungwoo relented, and he and Johnny left, though Jungwoo kept looking over his shoulder. Lucas hurried down the hall, not wanting to leave his paranoid boyfriend alone for long.

He turned the corner, resisting the urge to run. He gasped, nearly crashing into someone. Their arms were full of laundry. Lucas opened his mouth to apologize, but the only sound that came out was a pained grunt as something sharp was shoved into his stomach.

It was then that he saw that the clothes in his attacker's arms were covered in blood.

His attacker had a black hoodie on, but he caught a glimpse of his face, as well as the tears running down his cheeks as he raised the knife for another blow.

"Did you-" he started, but he couldn't get the words out. His vision was starting to go dark. "Is he...is he..." he choked out, grabbing for his attacker's arm. Then he fell to the floor with a thud, with his attacker sobbing above him.

-

“Lucas said he’d join us soon,” Jungwoo said, his voice rising higher and higher with each passing minute. “Where is he?”

Hendery stopped pacing to look up at the clock for the third time in the past minute. “Maybe he got distracted with something else?” He offered weakly, his words doing little to calm everyone else down.

Yangyang closed his eyes, silently begging for Xiaojun to return fast. He had been gone for a while as well. He had spilt a cup of juice on himself and left to change his shirt, but it shouldn’t be taking _this_ long.

"Should we go look for him?" Johnny asked, his voice higher than usual. So it wasn't just Jungwoo who was worried.

"I'm sure he's fine," Hendery said, sounding more unsure by the minute. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to find him."

 _Xiaojun too,_ Yangyang silently added, but bringing up the missing boy wouldn't help the situation. "Let's all go together," he said out loud, and Jungwoo nodded, looking grateful for the suggestion.

The group of them walked around the downstairs first, but the only people they found were Taeyong and Yuta, who were talking in hushed voices, both looking equally upset. Yangyang didn't need to hear them to know what they were talking about. It was on everyone's minds, overshadowing everything else.

"Maybe he went back to his room?" Hendery said. Yangyang knew he was trying to be optimistic, but it was only making him feel worse.

Jungwoo, now a trembling mess, barely managed to nod. A part of him wanted to comfort him, but Yangyang wasn't sure what to say, so he kept quiet.

"It's so quiet," Johnny commented. He was right, it was. Almost eerily so. Campus was usually bustling this time of day, and even though it was a small school, there were always people walking the halls or chatting along the walls. Now it was empty, with most of the students gone. The ones that remained - class 628 - were all holed up in their rooms, hiding from the unseen threat that now roamed the halls. Jaehyun was gone, but that didn't mean anything. The rules said that the killer could choose two victims.

 _Please be safe,_ he repeated to himself, picturing Xiaojun's smile in his mind, because that's the only thing that could comfort him right now. If he thought too much, he knew what he'd figure out. Either Xiaojun was dead, or-

Jungwoo stopped dead in his tracks, an agonized wail ripping itself from his chest. Yangyang looked up from the floor in time to see Jungwoo fall to his knees in front of what could only be a body, curled on in the middle of the hall.

Even though his back was to them and they couldn't see his face, Yangyang recognized his friend's silhouette immediately, as well as the brown sweater he was wearing.

And it didn't belong to Xiaojun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how the rooms are set up, fyi:
> 
> Left hall, room 1: Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun  
> Left hall, room 2: Lucas, Chenle, Jisung  
> Left hall, room 3: Taeyong, Jungwoo, Yuta  
> Right hall, room 1: Mark, Johnny, Doyoung  
> Right hall, room 2: Yangyang, Hendery, Xiaojun  
> Right hall, room 3: Kun, Haechan, Taeil  
> Right hall, room 4: Ten, Winwin, Jaehyun


	3. You're Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love reading the theories you guys have! I was so thrilled that I had people interacting with this story, I speed-wrote the next chapter because I felt so inspired! So thank you for everyone that commented, it totally made my day :)

The broken sobs didn't die down until hours later, when Jungwoo's throat was too sore to continue crying. Then he sat there in silence, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. No one dared to say anything, not wanting to make things worse.

Jeno looked at the clock, which seemed both frozen and yet too fast at the same time. Curfew was approaching quickly, but they were all still in the cafeteria, too afraid to wander off alone.

The only people absent were Ten and Winwin, who had returned to their room early. Not like Jeno could blame them. He wished he could do the same, but he wasn't ready to leave the safety of the group. Not yet.

Jaemin and Renjun sat with him, and it was unnerving how quiet they were. Jaemin usually had some funny story to share, but now clearly wasn't the time for jokes. Still, Jeno figured he could use a good laugh. He hadn't smiled since they found Jaehyun, and as of now, he didn't think he'd be able to manage one for a long time.

Taeil had been the one to step in and make dinner. Since the staff was gone, it fell on them to cook. They had plenty of food, so they wouldn't go hungry any time soon, but Jeno found it hard to be grateful with two of his friends dead.

Jungwoo had lost more than a friend, though. He was Lucas's boyfriend, and the two of them had been very close. Now the poor boy was a total wreck, his face puffy and red like Jeno had never seen it before, and though the wailing had stopped, he continued to sniffle miserably, the sound breaking Jeno's heart.

Jisung was handling it almost as badly as Jungwoo, only he hid it better, sobbing into Kun's arm as the older boy held him in a comforting embrace. Chenle sat next to him, also crying, but he was doing his best act tough - most likely for Jisung's sake.

"We should all head back to our rooms," Doyoung said, looking up at the clock. "We have a curfew."

"Does anyone else think it's sick that whoever this Indigo person is gets to control our schedule?" Haechan said, the bitterness in his voice making Jeno wince. "First he makes us kill our friends, then he gets to tell us when we do what? What will he do if we don't listen? Kill us all?"

The room went silent. Jeno hadn't considered that yet, but Haechan had a point.

"You're right," Yuta said. "We don't know what he'll do, which is why we can't risk it. It's bad enough that we're stuck here in this sick game, why make it worse for ourselves?"

"Guys, please, let's just get to bed," Doyoung pleaded. "We have a trial tomorrow, remember? I just...I need to get to bed."

No one argued with that. We all felt the same way.

Despite how emotionally exhausted he felt, Jeno found himself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. He could hear Jaemin moving around in the bed below him, most likely still awake as well.

Tomorrow they'd have their first trial, and another one of them would die. Even though he knew in his head one of his friends was guilty, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it, and guilty or not, he hated the idea of sentencing one of his friends to death.

Jeno squeezed his eyes shut, desperately hoping for sleep that just wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he willed it.

-

Yuta ate his cold cereal silently, the food tasting like dust in his mouth. His appetite had been gone since they found Jaehyun’s body, but he knew he needed to eat, so he did, even if he couldn’t enjoy it. He looked around the table, noticing that most of them had dark circles under their eyes, same as both of his roommates. Taeyong had been up on his phone, trying to get his cell service to work, while Jungwoo had been sobbing into his pillow.

Yuta slept fairly well, even though he felt like he should’ve been up like everyone else. His mind had been going nonstop, trying to process what had happened and trying to figure out who had done it simultaneously. By the time he got into bed, he crashed.

Now that he was awake, his thoughts came back at full force, and he scanned everyone’s faces, trying to find _something_. Guilt, fear, anger. Anything.

Everyone was worried, but Yangyang looked straight up terrified. Haechan and Mark both looked wary, and then there was Johnny, whose face was a sickly white color, and his hands were shaking. He had been the one to carry Lucas to the same classroom as Jaehyun, along with Kun and Hendery. It had been an awkward, clumsy process, but they couldn’t just leave him in the middle of the hallway like that.

“We should talk,” Renjun said. He had been scanning the room as well, but clearly had come to the same conclusion as Yuta had, which was that no one seemed suspicious enough to accuse. “There’s a trial tonight, and we can’t go into it blind. We haven’t found the murder weapon, or any evidence. All we have are some footprints, and we already know they belong to Winwin and Ten. If the killer did leave footprints, they were covered up.”

“If we look at the wounds themselves, it’s pretty clear that whoever did it was short,” Ten added. “The killer stabbed them in the stomach, not the chest or neck. A taller person could stab them in the stomach, sure, but the cuts in the victim's shirt would tear up. Like this, see?” He mimicked an underhanded stabbing motion. “But if the killer used an overhand motion, the cuts would go down, and that angle would be hard for a taller person.”

The table went silent.

“How did you even think of that?” Renjun asked, and Ten shrugged.

“I don’t know, it was just something I noticed. I just thought it was weird that the killer didn’t go for the throat, but then I figured that it must’ve been hard for them to reach, so they improvised. That helps narrow it down, doesn’t it?” Ten looked over at Johnny. “We know it’s not you, now. I’d guess they’re about five eight, maybe? Or a couple inches taller, it’s hard to tell.”

“That’s not extremely helpful,” Chenle pointed out. “We’re all around that height range, except for Johnny and maybe Jungwoo and Jisung.”

“At least we’ve cleared a few people,” Taeyong said. “Does anyone else have anything helpful? We know it can’t be Kun or Haechan, because they were cleaning the bathroom when Lucas was killed, and we know when he was killed because he had been with Johnny and Jungwoo until one o’clock or so, when he left to find Chenle and Jisung, who were together in their room. I know that I was with Yuta and Renjun trying to find the murder weapon, and Yangyang, Hendery, Xiaojun, Jungwoo, and Johnny were making lunch, so that leaves us with Mark, Taeil, Doyoung, Jeno, and Jaemin. Ten and Winwin were both mourning in their room, and I went to check on them around twelve thirty, so they’re pretty much cleared as well.”

“Jeno and I were in our room, too,” Jaemin said defensively. “Ask Renjun, he knows. And none of us left the room the night Jaehyun died.”

Renjun nodded in confirmation. “I’m a light sleeper, so I would’ve heard if one of them left. And Jaemin showed us his phone, and he hadn’t gotten a text from Indigo.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Mark asked.

“Who cares about the rules? Two of our friends are dead!” Jungwoo suddenly snapped, then buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“It’s okay,” Taeil reassured him. “We’re all upset.”

“If we break the rules, Indigo could kill us all,” Haechan said. “We shouldn’t risk it, like Yuta said last night. No more showing each other our phones, okay?”

Yuta turned to Doyoung, who had yet to say anything. “Do you have an alibi?”

Doyoung looked taken aback, then hurt. “You think I killed Jaehyun?” He sighed, wringing his hands together, pausing for a bit too long. “I was in my room, alone. I know how it sounds, but I’m telling the truth. I wanted to help find clues, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t deal with it, so I went to my room to be alone for a bit. I told Mark where I was going.”

“Mark, do you have any proof Doyoung was actually at the dorm?” Yuta asked, and Mark shook his head. Yuta felt sick, but if he was onto a lead, he had to follow it. He opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but Johnny interrupted him.

“He doesn’t have an alibi for when Lucas died, but I know he was in bed when Jaehyun died. I tied a bell to the doorknob, so if anyone opened the door I would hear it. Even if he had tried to untie the string, I’d still have heard it,” Johnny said, defending his roommate. “It’s a loud bell, too. I know I would’ve heard it.”

“Where did you find a bell?” Haechan asked.

“Mark keeps some of the most random crap under his bed,” Johnny explained. “It’s a disaster in our room. You can seriously find anything in there.”

Yuta sighed in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. “So it’s not Doyoung, or Mark. Does that mean it’s Taeil?”

“He is short enough,” Ten said, and Kun quickly interjected.

“I was up all night, and Taeil didn’t leave the room,” he said.

Yuta’s heart sunk, because that meant everyone had an alibi, which meant they had missed something. “Did any of the people in their rooms leave? Even if it was just for a minute?”

“I did,” Winwin said, raising his hand. “I went to grab lunch for Ten and I. I passed the bathroom, remember? I checked in to see if Kun or Haechan wanted a snack, and they both said no.”

“I can attest to that,” Kun said, and Haechan nodded.

It didn’t fully clear his name, and it was still fully possible that Winwin had killed both of them, but he had been such a wreck after finding Jaehyun it seemed unlikely that he had been acting. Ten could’ve done it as well after Winwin left, but he would’ve had to run across the hall and past the bathroom - which would’ve been noticed, surely - and then killed Lucas, fully cleaned himself up and hid the murder weapon before Winwin got back, which seemed highly unlikely.

“We’re getting nowhere!” Haechan snapped. “We need more evidence. I’m going to search everyone’s rooms and look for that accursed knife. Mark, Renjun, come with me. Groups of three are safer, and I trust you guys.” He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor and making Jisung wince. He had been jumpy ever since they found Jaehyun.

“I’m going to search the victims' rooms,” Yuta said, things slowly clicking into place, but he didn’t want to give anything away in case he was dead wrong. “Anyone want to help me? I want to see if I can find any clues they might have left behind.”

“Sure,” Winwin said, and Yuta smiled, pleased for the younger boy’s company. “And maybe Kun could join us, since I trust him," Winwin said, then quickly backpedaled. "I mean, not like I don’t trust you, I just wanted another pair of eyes,” he stammered. “I know I look a bit suspicious, so I want you to feel safe.”

 _He’s so cute,_ Yuta thought, glad that at least there was still something good in his life. “I understand what you’re trying to say, don’t worry.”

“Can I go, too?” Taeil asked. “I feel like I haven’t helped much.”

Yuta agreed, and the four of them went to check room R4, where Jaehyun used to live. Seeing his empty bed sent a painful ache straight until Yuta’s chest, but grieving could come later, after they caught the killer. 

“Alright, let’s see what we can find,” he said.

-

Nothing. No weapon, no bloody clothes, _nothing_.

Every dorm room had been searched top to bottom, and there had been nothing out of the ordinary. Renjun sat with Jaemin and Jeno in the main hall, watching the blank projector, and he couldn’t help but think back to the day before, when they had sat and watched Indigo’s presentation.

“Hey, what are your colors?” He asked, the question coming out without him thinking. “I know we’re not supposed to say, but-”

“Mint,” Jaemin said without hesitation.

Jeno looked up from his phone. “Peach.”

“I’m Coral,” Renjun said, looking over his shoulder. “Where is everyone else? The trial starts soon, and we were told to meet in here.”

Jeno slid his phone into his pocket, just as the doors opened and the rest of their classmates streamed into the room.

The three of them had arranged the chairs into a circle, so they could have a proper meeting. Everyone picked a seat, and Renjun tried not to look at the two empty seats where Lucas and Jaehyun should be.

“Well, should we start?” Mark asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Might as well get it over with, right?”

Johnny coughed awkwardly, his gaze flickering over to Jeno. “I have an accusation,” he said, jumping straight into it. “Jeno has very weak alibis for both deaths, and he hasn’t been talking much.”

“But Jeno isn’t a very talkative person,” Jaemin cut in.

“You’re quick to defend him,” Johnny shot back, and Jaemin huffed, his arms crossing over his chest. He didn’t seem extremely nervous, more irritated than anything. 

“It’s against the rules to pair up, and if Jeno had killed someone - which he _didn’t_ \- I wouldn’t defend him, even if he is one of my best friends!” Jaemin said.

Renjun looked over at Yangyang, who was picking at the zipper of his jacket. “Is something wrong, Yangyang?” He asked, and Yangyang’s head shot up.

“Huh? No, it’s just…” he trailed off, his voice cracking, and all eyes turned to brunette, who was now the center of attention. “Xiaojun left while we were making lunch. He...he wasn’t there when we found Lucas, he rejoined our group afterwards.”

Xiaojun, who had been relaxed before, suddenly sat up fully in his chair, the movement making the metal chair squeak. “Yangyang?” he asked, eyes wide, and the betrayal in them could be seen even from across the room.

Yangyang, voice wobbling as if he were on the verge of tears, continued. “He left in the middle of the night, too. It was around eleven. I thought he had just gone to the bathroom, so at the time I had rolled over and fallen asleep, not really thinking much of it, but now I’m not sure. I don’t want to accuse him, but...I don’t want a killer going free.”

Xiaojun was trembling now, and Yangyang had started to cry. Hendery looked stunned.

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” he said. “But Yangyang is right. He left to change his shirt, and he was gone for a while. He could’ve done it. The timeframe matches up.”

“No!” Xiaojun cried, frantically wiping the tears spilling from Yangyang’s cheeks. “I didn’t do it, I swear! I couldn’t find a shirt I liked, that’s why it took so long!”

“We don’t have any other suspects,” Chenle said, and Xiaojun shook his head, but he didn’t say anything more. Either he knew we wouldn’t believe him and had given up, or was too stunned to defend himself.

Yuta, who had been sitting quietly, looking lost in thought, spoke up before they could start voting. “Actually, I have another suspect. I’m not saying Xiaojun is innocent, and it’s only a hunch, but does anyone else think it’s weird that Chenle has been wearing slippers since yesterday morning?”

The room went quiet, and everyone glanced around at one another, unsure how to react. What was Yuta trying to get at? Renjun stifled a laugh, since it seemed inappropriate given the circumstances.

“Uh, Yuta…” Ten started slowly. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but _you’re_ wearing slippers right now, too. How does that prove anything?”

“Yeah, and Jisung is in socks, and so is Winwin and Taeyong. And I'm barefoot,” Haechan said. “I don’t see how our choice in footwear says anything. We don’t have teachers to get after us, so we’ve all been dressing more casual the past two days.”

Yuta paused, a storm of emotions swimming behind his eyes. Renjun's earlier mirth faded, because Yuta looked serious. “I thought that, too,” he started. “At first, at least, but he’s been so quiet recently.”

Renjun searched Chenle’s face, but he kept his expression guarded.

“Everyone has been off,” Kun said. “It’s been a hard couple of days for all of us.”

“I know, I know,” Yuta said, holding his hand up, signalling he wanted silence. “Just hear me out for a minute. Chenle and Jisung have been acting really weird - they don’t talk to anyone else, they’ve been locking themselves in their room, and doesn’t anyone else find it suspicious that Lucas was going to their room when he was killed? No one else was in that area, except for Jeno and Jaemin, who were in their room. If one of them had snuck out and killed him-”

“Then the other one would’ve noticed and ratted him out,” Johnny interrupted. “And what about Jaehyun? Do you think one of them got up in the middle of the night and lurked around the bathroom on the other side of the hall until Jaehyun showed up?”

Renjun’s own words, the ones he had said to Jaemin and Jeno the previous morning, came back to him: _“Even if their room is on the other side of the hallway, it doesn’t mean they can’t come over here. It would be smarter, actually. They’d look less suspicious that way.”_

“During breakfast on Friday, Chenle said that the three of them had stayed up to watch the door together,” Renjun started, more to himself than anyone else. “And Jisung said that Lucas and Chenle fell asleep first. It could be Jisung, he could’ve left then, because he knew he wouldn’t be caught.”

“Chenle’s shoes are missing,” Yuta said. Jisung held Chenle’s hand, clutching onto his friend until his knuckles turned white. Renjun felt a stab of pity for the two of them, even though there was a possibility that one of them had killed two of their friends. They were just children!

“How do you know?” Taeyong asked, eyes narrowing. They were all eager to defend the younger two, it seemed. “Just because he’s wearing slippers?”

“I checked their room, and I couldn’t find his shoes anywhere. According to my theory, Jisung stole Chenle’s shoes and wore them when he went to kill Jaehyun. After he finished, he took them off so he wouldn’t leave footprints, and hid them along with his bloody clothes. Another thing I figured is that Lucas would trust him, and if Jisung asked him to go out into the hallway with him, Lucas would without question. Chenle wouldn’t suspect him either, so really, it would’ve been easy to do for Jisung. All he had to do was act scared and they’d both fall for it, easily. We all would have.”

“Are you saying Xiaojun is innocent?” Yangyang asked, and immediately the atmosphere shifted. Renjun had almost forgotten about Xiaojun, who was sitting silently between Yangyang and Hendery, eyes red and puffy.

Taeyong, who had been looking over the youngest two with something akin to panic in his eyes turned to Xiaojun, his expression hardening. “No, he still has no alibi. Jisung at least hasn't been confirmed to be gone during _both_ murders.”

“We can’t confirm if he left his room when Jaehyun died, but Chenle would know if Jisung left with Lucas, right?” Renjun said, turning the conversation back to the younger two once more. Xiaojun looked very sketchy at the moment, but something about the way Jisung and Chenle were acting didn’t sit right with him.

Chenle looked between Renjun and Jisung in a panic, his cool composure slipping away. “He didn’t...Jisung would never…”

“Well, neither would Xiaojun,” Hendery said defensively. The three of them were almost as close as Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin were, and Renjun knew that if he was placed in the same situation, he’d defend his friends to the death.

“We wouldn’t suspect the youngest to do something like this,” Haechan said, glaring daggers at Jisung, who looked like he wanted to disappear right then and there. “He probably thought we wouldn’t question him, so he doesn’t have an excuse planned.”

Taeil shook his head. “He just couldn’t have done it. Jisung is so sweet.”

“The texts were sent out at random,” Ten pointed out. “Anyone could’ve been picked, even him. But I don’t know why he’d killed Lucas if he only needed to kill one person. And why his roommate of all people?”

“Maybe Lucas caught him with evidence and he panicked?” Jeno suggested weakly. Renjun knew Jeno didn’t want any part of this, but he also wanted to help catch the killer at the same time. Renjun silently admired his bravery, and gave his knee a comforting pat.

Mark looked torn, his gaze shifting between Jisung and Xiaojun. “Jisung wouldn’t kill Lucas, though,” he said, sounding unsure.

“Xiaojun wouldn’t either!” Yangyang protested, wrapping a protective arm around his friend. “He was missing for a few minutes, so what? That doesn’t have to mean anything!”

“But it does,” Ten said.

Mark covered his face, his voice coming out muffled by his hands as he spoke. “They wouldn't have done it if they had a choice. This is all Indigo’s fault, we can’t hold either Jisung or Xiaojun responsible for their actions. We’d all have to do the same thing in their shoes.”

“He’s right,” Kun said, voice turning sympathetic. “I’m sure that whoever did it is feeling horrible right now.”

Jisung let out a sob, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. “It...it was me,” he hiccuped, unable to look anyone in the eye. “I did it, so...so I should be voted off!”

A part of Renjun was relieved that they had figured out, glad they would be able to avenge those that died, but another part of him felt nauseous at the thought of executing Jisung. The poor boy looked simply pitible, trembling like a leaf with the only thing grounding him being Chenle’s hand, which was still laced with his.

“I guess we vote now,” Taeyong said eventually, voice numb.

“Wait!” Chenle said sharply, and Jisung began to sob even harder.

Yuta gave him a compassionate, almost pitying smile. “I know this hard for you to accept, but Jisung confessed.”

“He lied! It’s me!” Chenle was standing now, fully adment, and Renjun almost believed him. “Jisung had nothing to do with it, he only said that to protect me! I snuck off after Jisung fell asleep, and I’m the one that hid my shoes! Go ahead and ask Jisung, he has no idea where they are!” Chenle turned to Jisung, his voice and gaze softening. “I’m sorry, but you can’t take the blame for something I did.”

“What about Lucas?” Mark asked, voice laced with disgust. “Why kill your roommate?”

“He ran into me when I was taking care of my clothes, and I panicked,” Chenle explained, gently fixing Jisung’s ruffled hair. “I told Jisung what I had done, because I thought I might go mad if I had to keep it to myself. It wasn’t fair of me, I know,” he leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on Jisung’s forehead, making the younger boy cry even harder. “Taking the blame was sweet of you, Jisung, but it’s not necessary. I need to take responsibility for my own actions.”

“No, it was me,” Jisung protested weakly. Renjun felt like his heart had just been wrenched from his chest, but they had to go on, had to keep playing.

“Let’s vote,” he said softly, and Chenle nodded, gently prying Jisung’s hand off of him.

Indigo had sent a link out along with the email, and it took them to what looked like just another online quiz. It had twenty one squares - a picture of each of them - and when Renjun tried to click on Jaehyun, just out of curiosity, it didn't work.

He clicked on the picture of Chenle, which smiled up at him from the screen. 

“Done?” Taeyong asked after a moment, and everyone nodded. The projector lit up, the text scrolling across the screen.

_Congratulations, you successfully completed your first round of the game! Looks like Chenle is the first one out! You all chose right, Chenle was the guilty player. Say your goodbyes, Chenle, then go through the door on the far end of the room. I’ll see you all soon, and remember to check your phones tonight!_

Chenle gave Jisung one final hug, murmuring something unintelligible into his ear. Jisung clung to him, hiding his face in Chenle’s shoulder.

“Don’t leave me, too,” he said, voice broken and helpless. It was too late now, and he knew it. Chenle was guilty, he couldn’t change that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, gently pushing Jisung back. “Be strong for me, okay?”

And with that, he walked in the mysterious room, the door closing silently behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, my sister is going to kill me. I haven't told her what happens, and Chenle is one of her favorites. I'm sorry, it's all randomized! Don't get mad at me, please!


	4. Highway To Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fools! Hope you enjoy reading this chapter, because I absolutely hated writing it, lol.

Johnny, Mark, and Doyoung decided to stick together, just in case the new killer was out on the prowl. So far, no bodies had been found, but it was still early in the day.

Jisung had slept over with Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun, and the four of them had yet to come downstairs for breakfast. The table seemed so empty, so lonely. In the spot where Jaehyun usually sat there was only an empty chair, and Johnny felt his throat tighten painfully. It wasn’t fair. Jaehyun had done nothing wrong.

Though maybe, in a way, he had been lucky. He never had to play the game. Yes, he was gone, but wherever he was, it had to be better than this. Jaehyun would never have to experience sentencing one of his friends to death, or see the pain that followed everyone else after he left them. Jaehyun was better off than the rest of them.

“Are the eggs alright? I think they got a bit burned on the bottom,” Taeil said, breaking the silence. He seemed strangely chipper this morning, unlike the majority of the people sitting at the table, whose looks ranged from ‘I didn’t sleep last night’ to ‘I was hit by a truck.’

Johnny envied Taeil’s positive attitude. Johnny wasn’t pessimistic by any stretch, but even he couldn’t smile through their current circumstances. “Yeah, they’re good,” he answered, forcing himself to smile back.

“They aren’t burned at all,” Mark piped up.

Having such a normal conversation after three of them had died felt wrong, but Johnny didn’t have to heart to bring up the elephant in the room. They had fallen into a shaky balance, trying their best to go through the day like they normally would.

“Where are the other four?” Taeyong asked, glancing at the empty seats where Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung usually sat.

“Sleeping in, hopefully,” Kun said. “They could always use the extra rest, they had a stressful day yesterday.”

“We all did,” Doyoung agreed around a mouthful of food, and Taeyong scolded him for talking with his mouth full.

 _Things are going too smoothly,_ Johnny thought to himself as he ate his breakfast. _What is the killer waiting for?_

-

“Do you think we’ll get in trouble for skipping breakfast?” Jisung asked as he dried his hair with a towel. “I know it was a rule, but surely Indigo won’t mind that we messed up one time?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Renjun said, leaning against the bathroom sink. The four of them decided it was safer to stick together, so they had all gone with when Jisung insisted on taking a shower. “Do you think Indigo can die? I mean, what if one of us kills him?”

Jaemin frowned. “Huh, never thought of that before. Will the game end if that happens?”

“Hopefully,” Jeno said, perking up a bit. “If we can figure out who Indigo is, we could end the game early! I already know it’s not one of us, or the three who already died, so that leaves us with fifteen people it could be.”

“Why am I a suspect?” Jisung asked indignantly. “You really think I’m capable of setting up this whole thing?”

“It does seem unlikely,” Renjun agreed. “But you never know. Now that I think about it, I doubt it could be Taeyong, either. He isn’t smart enough to work the projectors.”

Jaemin snorted, and Renjun smiled to himself, pleased that he had lessened the tension in the air, even if only for a minute.

“I don’t know how we’d even figure out who it is. It’s not like we can just ask everyone,” Jeno said. “We could steal their phones, but I feel like Indigo is smart enough to have a decoy in case that happens.”

“We could ask everyone at lunch today, and see if anyone acts suspicious?” Jaemin suggested. “It’s not foolproof, but we could try.”

Jisung slipped on his shoes and wiped a droplet of water off of the tip of his nose. “Can we go get a snack? I’m hungry now.” He smiled weakly, still trying to act alright, as if he hadn’t spent the entire night sobbing in his sleep.

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty famished myself,” Jaemin agreed, and Jeno rolled his eyes, smiling fondly at his friend.

 _Way to be subtle, Jeno,_ Renjun said to himself. Nowadays, he either felt like their third wheel or their matchmaker, depending on the day, but Renjun preferred that over some random person joining their trio. The thing that bothered him the most was how infuriatingly oblivious Jaemin was to how Jeno felt.

“We should have kimchi with fried eggs,” Jisung said quietly as they walked down to the cafeteria. “We have some fermented cabbage already prepped, I think.” He smiled, fond and sad. “It was Chenle’s favorite meal.”

That sharp, jagged splinter of guilt wedged itself deeper in Renjun's chest. He knew that Chenle had brought his own death upon himself, and that he shouldn't feel responsible for what happened, but he had been one of the people that voted for Chenle. Didn't that mean it was partially his fault? He deserved a percentage of the blame, surely.

When they got down to the cafeteria, it was empty. It was too late for breakfast, and too early for lunch.

"Is it alright if I cook alone?" Jisung asked. "I need something to focus on that isn't…" He let out a small, broken laugh. "You know," he finished with a shrug. "Him."

Jaemin patted him on the shoulder, looking unsure how to comfort the boy who was now on the verge of tears.

"Of course, we'll wait out here," Jeno said sympathetically.

The three of them sat around one of the smaller tables, and waited. They didn't say much, but just being with two of his closest friends helped to sooth the storm of worries inside Renjun's head. If he tried, he could almost convince himself that this was just another normal day.

There was a loud thud from inside the kitchen area, and when Renjun called to ask if everything was alright, Jisung said he had run into one of the cupboards.

Jisung came out from the kitchen with two bowls, just as Mark came into the room, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Oh, are you guys already having lunch?" He asked, taking a seat at their table. "I was starving, so I came to see if there were any snacks in the kitchen, but if you guys have extra and you wouldn't mind sharing…"

"We made extra!" Jisung said. "I'll be back with more, I didn't have enough hands."

"'We'?" Renjun echoed. Jisung looked a bit taken aback.

"Oh, uh...Taeil was already here making lunch. He helped me figure out the seasonings and stuff," Jisung said dismissively.

He went to walk away, and Jeno stood up as well. "I can help," he offered.

"No need, I got it," Jisung said, disappearing into the kitchen once more. Jeno sat back down.

"Why did you come alone? Isn't that kind of dangerous?" Jaemin asked.

Mark looked down at the table, shifting deeper into his seat. "Well, I don't want to make him sound bad or anything, but Johnny has been acting kind of strange. Not like I think he's trying to kill me or anything, he's just being...weird."

Renjun understood how he felt. Even the slightest shift in someone's behavior now made him nervous.

"You can stick with us if you'd like," Jaemin offered. Mark nodded gratefully, relaxing a bit. Renjun had yet to see Johnny today, so he didn’t know what ‘weird’ meant, but just hearing Mark say that - suggesting that his best friend might be a potential killer - made his stomach go sour.

Jisung returned with two bowls, then two more. Renjun didn’t feel very hungry, but he ate anyway. He didn’t want Jisung to think his cooking was bad.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Jaemin said after a few minutes, looking up from his meal. “Mark, what color are you? We’re trying to find who's behind this.”

Mark looked confused. “Huh? What color?”

“Indigo gave us all colors, remember? Didn’t he text you?” Jeno asked, frowning.

“Oh yeah,” Mark said. “I’m Gold.”

Jaemin choked on a mouthful of lettuce, and Renjun smiled to himself. “Wait for real? We get normal, boring colors and you get _gold_? How is that fair?” Jisung complained. “Maybe you’re Indigo’s favorite? Hey, wait, maybe I’m onto something!”

Renjun cocked his head to the side, skeptical. “You think Indigo gave Mark gold because he likes him more than everyone else?”

“So you’re saying it’s Haechan?” Jaemin asked innocently, and Mark scoffed.

“He’d give me pink or something like that,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “The colors are probably random, they don't mean anything. How does asking what everyone’s color is even tell you anything? Indigo could just lie.”

“Well, there is a flaw to our plan,” Jaemin admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But if he hesitates, or acts funny…”

“We just want the game to end,” Jisung said. “If we kill him, we can leave. This will all be over.” Jisung looked down at his now empty bowl, frowning. “Unless he found a way for the game to continue if he died. Maybe he is already dead. Maybe...maybe it was Chenle.” Tears were beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes, catching the sunlight filtering through the window.

Jeno shook his head, setting a comforting hand on Jisung's shoulder. "No, it couldn't be him. Chenle would never do something like this."

"None of us would do something like this, at least, not the friends I know," Jisung argued. "It could be any of us."

Renjun couldn't argue with that. He never thought any of his friends were capable of devising such a morbid game, but one of them had.

“Don’t think like that,” Mark said, putting on a cheerful, somewhat forced smile. “No one has died yet, right? Maybe it was just a one time thing. Maybe the killer boycotted, and the killing is done.”

Renjun knew it didn’t work like that - Indigo had made it clear that if the killer refused to play along they’d all be killed - but Jisung had stopped crying, so he kept quiet.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Mark offered, beginning to stack the empty bowls. “If you guys wouldn’t mind, could you stay here and guard me, please? I’m still worried about, well, you know.” They all agreed, and Mark carried the bowls into the kitchen.

Not even a minute later, there was a loud crash, followed by a scream. Mark.

Renjun’s blood went cold, and though he told his legs to move, they wouldn’t listen. Either someone had attacked him, or he had found someone, and neither option made Renjun feel any better. The door flung open and Mark stumbled out, pale and unsteady on his feet.

“Taeil,” was all he got out before Jisung broke down into tears, hiding his face in Jeno's chest, like he used to do with Lucas when he was afraid.

“What happened?” Renjun asked, switching to his newly found detective mode. “Did you see any wounds?” He stepped past Mark, while the other four remained huddled outside.

Taeil was slumped against the wall, his eyes glazed over and his neck an ugly, raw red color. So he was strangled, then. Shattered bowls - the bowls they had just eaten out of - were scattered on the floor. Mark must’ve dropped them out of shock. Renjun knelt down and looked closely at the marks on his neck. It had yet to bruise over, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t been choked by hand, nor a wire.

If he had to guess, he’d say someone had wrapped an arm around his neck. They could’ve covered his mouth easily from that angle, and if they were quick enough, they could’ve killed him silently, even if there were other people in the next room.

He groaned, pulling at his hair, frustration swelling up inside of him. He had been on the other side of the wall, he should’ve heard something - a struggle, at the very least, the sound of Taeil’s panicked noises as he was strangled to death. This time the murder had happened right under his nose while he oblviously ate kimchi.

Jaemin had run off to tell the others the bad news while Jeno spoke gently to Jisung, who was now sitting down with his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking. Mark paced back and forth in front of the door, a bit of color back in his cheeks, though he still had that wide eyed, frantic look on his face. One that Renjun was sure was mirrored on his own face.

“Which way did Jaemin go?” He asked. “It’s not safe to go off alone.”

“Upstairs,” Mark answered. “He just left. Why, do you want to go with him? I think he’s safe, the killer already did what was required.”

Renjun had thought the same thing after they found Jaehyun, yet Lucas still died. “I don’t want to take any chances. Guard the body for me, please. I don’t want anyone tampering with it. I’ll be right back.”

Mark nodded grimly, and Renjun ran off to catch up with Jaemin.

-

“I was hoping this had ended,” Ten said, watching as Johnny hauled Taeil up over his shoulders, his face kept carefully blank as he carried the body of his friend to join Lucas and Jaehyun. Mark said he was acting strange, and Jeno could see why. He had been keeping along the edge of the group, looking lost in thought, his eyes periodically drifting out of focus.

It wasn’t enough to accuse him of anything - in fact, it couldn’t have possibly been him - but he could see why Mark had been a bit hesitant to hang out with him one on one.

“Do you have any idea of who did it?” Winwin asked, and Jeno felt his heart plummet. He had been trying not to think about it, but there were only two people it could possibly be. Either it was Jisung, or it was Mark.

Renjun cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “It’s not as hard as last time,” he started. “Last time, we struggled to narrow it down, since everyone had an alibi of sorts, albeit weak ones, but this time it’s obvious.” He hesitated, not wanting to say it, but he knew he had to. It seemed so cruel after what he had been through, but they didn’t have a choice. “It only could’ve been two people. Mark, or Jisung.”

“Wait, me?” Mark asked incredulously. “But I found him!”

Jisung’s head shot up, his mouth agape. “Why would you think it’s me?”

“You two were the only ones that had been alone in the kitchen with him. You made lunch with him, and Mark was alone with him when he went to do the dishes,” Renjun explained. “One of you strangled him.”

Haechan stepped forward, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Could he have died before Jisung went in?” He asked.

“Not unless Jisung saw his corpse and just ignored it,” Renjun said, a surprising bite to his words. Haechan winced.

“Guys, stop fighting, please,” Doyoung said, looking straight up miserable. “It won’t help. We have to be logical about this. We narrowed it down to two people, so we need to figure out which one is guilty.”

Yuta, who was standing with an arm around Winwin, looked up. “What was the murder weapon?” He asked, voice serious. He seemed to have adjusted to this new role quickly, and he - along with Renjun - had become the two ‘detectives’ of the group. Jeno tried not to think about what would happen if they were killed, or worse: were chosen as the killer.

Jeno had a sneaking suspicion that Renjun would be all too good at hiding a corpse if it came to that.

“It looks like the killer used their arm to strangle them to death,” Renjun said. “That would’ve taken about three minutes, give or take.”

Taeyong pulled out a chair. “Why don’t you walk us through what happened?” He said. There was a deep crease between his brows, which had deepened since yesterday when Jeno last saw him. He knew Taeyong took a lot of the stress onto himself, and was trying his hardest to be strong for the rest of the group.

“We came down at ten thirty,” Renjun started, sitting down as well. “Jisung offered to make us lunch, so Jaemin, Jeno and I sat down and talked while we waited. Mark joined us about five minutes later. We all ate, and then Mark offered to do the dishes. He was only in there for about a minute before we heard him scream.”

Haechan looked up, his eyes glinting, and he quickly cut in before Taeyong had the chance to speak. “You said it would take at least three minutes to kill him, right? So Mark couldn’t have done it, right? Right?” He asked, eager to prove his friend's innocence.

Renjun hesitated. “Well, I suppose, but...it is a little suspicious that it took him a solid minute to see Taeil. But you’re right, he couldn’t have killed him in such a short time frame. I’m not saying he’s completely cleared, though. There’s still a possibility he could’ve...I’m not sure. But I still need more time to figure it out.”

“So Jisung is our prime suspect? Again?” Yangyang asked.

Renjun grimaced. “It looks that way, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought killing Chenle hurt, but after killing my 127 bias I'm not so sure anymore. At least I still have Jeno 😭


	5. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to write trial scenes >.<
> 
> I have to keep track of who knows what and who doesn't, and then try to give everyone the same amount of page time even though I keep forgetting that Doyoung, Ten and Johnny are there for some reason. It seemed so easy at first, but honestly it's pretty complicated. I'm sure it'll be easier once the cast shrinks, but for right now it's hard to keep track of everyone!

Renjun had been mistaken.

Hendery knew it, looking at the lifeless body of Taeil, placed on the floor alongside Lucas. He shouldn’t be in here alone, he knew. It was dangerous. But he had to get to the bottom of this, because Renjun had missed something.

When Hendery reached the cafeteria, Jeno had been leaving the kitchen. Mark and Jisung hadn’t been in there with him. Renjun claimed that Taeil had been dead, but what if he had only been passed out, and Jeno had been the one to land the final blow?

How Taeil had passed out was beyond him - maybe he fainted? - and he couldn’t quite figure out how Jeno could’ve pulled that off, since he wasn’t as good at this sort of thing as Renjun or Yuta, but he thought it was suspicious how Jeno had been the one with Taeil after Renjun had told them he left Mark to watch the body.

It was only a hunch he had, one with weak evidence to back it up, but Hendery knew it wouldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Taeil’s neck had started to bruise over, just slightly, the color standing out against his pale skin. Hendery crouched down to touch his clammy skin, and the image of either Yangyang or Xiaojun like this in Taeil place flashed through his mind.

He stood up abruptly, snapping himself out of those horrible thoughts.

He had to go talk with the other two. They would help him figure things out. He didn’t want to tell anyone else about his suspicions just yet, only those he trusted. And he trusted Yangyang and Xiaojun more than anyone else in the world.

Yangyang had gone off with Jungwoo and Doyoung, he remembered, because they had wanted to take a walk around the campus to stretch their legs for a bit while they didn’t have to worry about someone attacking them from behind. The killer had already struck.

He circled the upstairs first, but he only found Kun and Haechan, who were both hovering over what looked like a phone, probably trying to figure out how to connect to the wifi. Their phones had all been acting strange since this whole thing started, and Hendery knew Indigo had done something, because the only thing they could do was text him and pretty much nothing else.

Hendery then went downstairs and began checking all of the empty classrooms, feeling slightly panicky when he did see Yangyang in any of them. He did eventually find him in the library - only a small room with a few bookshelves, chairs, and a single computer, since their school wasn’t very big - sitting by himself, reading what looked like a comic book.

“Weren’t you going on a walk?” He asked, and Yangyang looked up, smiling when he saw that it was Hendery that had interrupted him.

“Doyoung said he wanted to spend time with his roommates. I mean, Mark was just accused of murder, so he’s a bit shaken, but then Mark said he wanted to be alone so now he's with just Johnny. Then Jungwoo wandered off, so I came here,” he explained. “Do you want to join me? That we can both have an alibi if something else happens,” he said with a laugh, though it was humorless.

Hendery took the seat next to him, not in the mood to read. He was too distracted.

“Do you think it’s possible Taeil didn’t die when Renjun said he did?” He asked, deciding it would be pointless to beat around the bush.

Yangyang closed his book, his brown eyes alight with a new alertness. “Do you know something?” He asked, turning so they were face to face, knees touching. The sudden intensity of his stare took Hendery by surprise.

“I saw Jeno leave the kitchen,” Hendery said, folding his hands in his lap. “He was alone with Taeil for who knows how long. Renjun said Taeil was already dead, but what if he was just passed out, and Jeno actually killed him after Renjun left?”

“How did he pass out?” Yangyang asked, leaning a bit closer. Hendery hesitated.

“That’s where I’m stuck,” he admitted. “I don’t know, and that’s why I didn’t say anything. I wanted to talk things out with you and Xiaojun, first.”

Yangyang nodded slowly, looking lost in thought for a moment. “That isn’t really a lot to go by,” he eventually said. “And it’s hard to prove at this point. I think it’s best if we don’t go around blaming Jeno without proof.”

“But what if it is him?” Hendery asked.

“We’ll need to keep our eyes open,” Yangyang said, his voice steady compared to how badly Hendery’s was shaking. “No need to jump to conclusions right away. We should go rejoin the group and look for more clues to see if any of the evidence points towards Jeno.”

Hendery agreed, feeling better already after talking to his roommate.

Yangyang went to put his book away, while Hendery paced the room, his head still swimming, though not as badly as before. He wasn’t watching where he was going, and when he turned to walk down the aisle farthest to the left, he didn’t notice the body under his feet until he was tripping over it.

-

He thought they were safe. Taeil was already gone. There wasn’t supposed to be a second victim.

So when Hendery had come into his room, eyes wide with shock, telling him that his roommate had been found in the library, dead, Jungwoo didn’t believe it. Losing Lucas had hurt worse than anything else ever could, and though this loss didn’t hurt him quite as bad, it still felt like the wound in his chest that had just barely started healing was suddenly ripped open once more.

“But Taeil,” he said, hating how small his voice sounded. “They already found Taeil.”

“I’m sorry, we didn’t think he’d kill twice,” Hendery said.

They had been careless, thinking they were safe from a second murder. Jungwoo should’ve looked for Taeyong when he didn’t come back to the dorm. He should’ve known the killer would take advantage of him being alone.

“Thanks for telling me. I’ll go find Yuta,” he said, drying his eyes with the back of his sleeve. The shock and pain had already subsided, leaving behind a numbness that went down to his toes. Jungwoo stood up from his bed, and unlike the last time, he didn't cry.

-

“How did you not notice him?” Hendery asked in a sharp whisper, feeling partially guilty for cornering Yangyang like this, but knowing it was necessary. If he didn’t, someone else would, and they probably wouldn’t be as understanding. “There was a dead body on the other side of the room as you! And you’re saying you didn’t see him?”

“You didn’t either,” Yangyang said defensively. “I know how it looks, but I honestly had no clue he was there! I came down to read, like I said. No one came in or out while I was there. He must’ve died before I came.”

Hendery would’ve been more suspicious of him if it were possible that he had killed Taeil, but when Taeil died Yangyang was with him and Xiaojun, and Hendery knew that for a fact. Yangyang couldn’t be the killer.

Yangyang dropped Hendery’s gaze, a look of uncertainty crossing his face. “Do you think I could’ve done it?” He asked.

“No, I know it isn’t you. That’s why I won’t tell anyone that you were down here alone with him,” Hendery said. “We can say we came down together.”

Yangyang smiled - much more fitting than that kicked puppy look he had on before. “Thank you. I’ll cover for you if it ever comes to that.”

“No, don’t. If you ever suspect that I’m the killer, don’t try to cover my crimes.”

Yangyang sighed, his bottom lip sticking out in the beginnings of a pout. “Even if it meant I’d have to sentence you to death?” He asked. “I don’t think I could do that. You and Xiaojun and my best friends. I’d defend either of you, even if I watched you do it.”

Hendery knew it was pointless to argue with him, so he let it slide. “Let’s go tell the others,” he said. “And then we can have dinner.”

Yangyang agreed, shooting a worried glance over his shoulder. Hendery grabbed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. Yangyang relaxed, even if only a little, and smiled back.

-

Winwin could hardly force himself to eat dinner the next day, too sick with anticipation to enjoy it. No one had spoken about the trial yet, but he knew it was all anyone could think about. By the end of the night, either Mark or Jisung would be dead.

Ever since Hendery and Yangyang told the group about Taeyong, the tension in the air had thickened considerably. No one had expected there to be a second death.

“How much longer?” Jungwoo asked.

“Half an hour,” Ten answered simply. No one was in the mood for making conversation.

Time seemed to go by too slow, and yet too fast all at once. Winwin just wanted it to be over, but he couldn’t will time to go by any faster. Eventually, seven rolled around, and they all made their way to the main hall.

Unlike last time, there hadn’t been much discussion about who the killer might be. They narrowed it down to two people, and it was Mark’s word against Jisung’s. There wasn’t enough proof to decide, so they’d have to leave it down to fate. Either that, or get a confession out of one of them, which seemed unlikely.

Jisung sat in Chenle’s seat, leaving his own open. The sight tugged at something in Winwin’s chest, and he knew that unless some piece of evidence was revealed that told them it was Jisung without a shadow of a doubt, he’d have to vote for Mark.

“Hendery, can you go over how you and Yangyang found Taeyong again, please? Now that we’re all here,” Yuta asked. He had really changed in the past few days, and Winwin was sure he’d only continue to become more confident. Taeyong had always been like a leader of sorts for them, and now Yuta was taking on some of that role.

Hendery shifted forward in his seat, hands folded in front of him. “Well,” he started. “Yangyang and I went down to the library, and we talked for a bit. I was walking up and down the aisles, and then I found Taeyong, laying on the ground. He had the same marks around his neck as Taeil, so I assumed he had been choked in the same way. I didn’t see anyone nearby, and we didn’t pass anyone in the hall.”

“So there wasn’t any new evidence?” Yuta asked, the frustration clear in his voice. Winwin felt the tiny spark of hope in his chest die. They really had no choice but to pick at random.

Doyoung hadn’t said anything after Taeyong’s body was found, and his silence was unnerving. Even now, he sat with his mouth shut, glaring daggers at Jisung. Winwin wanted to comfort him, but he knew it would be useless at this point.

“There has to be something we missed, right?” Ten asked next to him, sitting up a little higher in his chair. “We can’t just guess, this is too important for that. If we mess up, the killer goes free. We need solid proof.”

Haechan spoke up, his voice exasperated when he said, “We _do_ have proof, you guys just won’t listen to me! It has to be Jisung, it’s not possible for Mark to have killed Taeil! He wasn’t alone in the kitchen with him long enough. Jisung had plenty of time to do it,” he accused, and he winced, shrinking back from Haechan’s glare.

“That’s not enough proof-” Renjun started.

“Not enough?” Haechan cut him off. “How is that not enough? That’s the only proof we have, and I think it’s pretty solid!”

“What if Jeno did it?”

The room went silent. Even Hendery himself looked stunned by the words that came out of his mouth.

“Why would you think that?” Kun asked, gently.

“When the three of us came down to the kitchen,” he started, and though he didn’t say the other two were, it was obvious he meant Xiaojun and Yangyang. They were inseparable, and rarely hung out with anyone outside their little group. Winwin knew it was because they had attended this school a year later than everyone else and weren’t as close with the group, but it made them appear standoffish at times, and Winwin couldn't help but wonder if that would make it easy to frame one of them if he ever got a turn to play killer. The thought made him shudder. “Jeno was coming out of the kitchen,” he continued.

“But Taeil was already dead by then, wasn’t he?” Jungwoo asked, turning his attention to Renjun, who hesitated.

“He seemed dead,” he said, looking at his feet. “I never checked his pulse, though. So I can’t say for sure that he was.”

“My theory was that Taeil wasn’t dead, and that he had just passed out. I know it’s a stretch,” Hendery admitted. “But it seems possible.”

Jeno smiled, not seeming bothered by the accusation. “I only went into the kitchen to clean up the bowls. Mark had been watching over Taeil and cut his hand on one of the shards.”

Mark held up his hand to show the red mark on his palm, backing up Jeno’s alibi. It didn’t fully clear his name, but at least it gave him a reason to be in there.

“So you’re saying you went in there to clean?” Yuta asked. “You didn’t move the body or anything?” He sounded like he was interrogating the boy. Did he really think Jeno could’ve done it, even though it made no sense?

“Taeil was already dead,” Winwin piped up before Jeno could defend himself. “How could you think it was someone other than Jisung and Mark?”

“I just want to make sure we didn’t miss anything,” Yuta explained.

“It’s alright, really,” Jeno said. “I know it looks a little suspicious, but I really did just go in to clean up. I never touched Taeil.”

Winwin glanced at Hendery, who hadn’t said anything more, apparently just wanting to put the idea out there. It didn’t seem as solid as Mark or Jisung, but it was best to have everything out on the table before they voted.

“I still think it’s Jisung,” Haechan said. “Jeno couldn't have killed Taeil if he was already dead. And Mark wasn’t missing when Taeyong died, and Jisung was.”

“Oh yeah?” Jaemin challenged. “Is hanging out with me not a strong enough alibi?”

“I saw he went off alone after we found Taeil! He could’ve done it then!” Haechan snapped. “Mark was with his roommates the entire time, he told me himself!”

 _If Taeyong were still here, he would’ve jumped in and stopped them by now,_ Winwin thought remorsefully.

“Guys, this is getting us nowhere,” Kun cut in. “Let’s just vote, okay? We’re running out of time, and this isn’t helping to prove anything. Unless someone has another theory, I think we’ll just have to guess.”

There was a pause. Winwin felt nearly sick, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. Johnny looked as pale as a ghost.

“I can’t think of anything else,” Jungwoo said.

Jisung let out a sob.

“There has to be something,” Renjun said desperately, but no one said anything.

Kun let out a heavy sigh. “Are we really just going to leave it to fate?” He asked. “No one can think of anything else?”

Xiaojun raised his hand, looking a bit unsure. “You said it’s possible that Taeil might’ve passed out, right?”

Yuta’s head shot up, a new fire in his eyes. Winwin knew that look, it meant he had figured it out. “It was Mark.”

As expected, Haechan immediately turned on Yuta, ready to defend Mark, but this time Johnny stopped him.

“Let him explain, first,” Johnny said, and Haechan relented.

“It takes around three minutes to fully suffocate someone,” Yuta said. “So if you think about it, it couldn’t be Mark, right? I thought it had to be Jisung, but then Hendery’s theory got me thinking. While I don’t believe it’s Jeno, I think Taeil _did_ pass out. It only takes about forty seconds for someone to pass out from lack of air, which means Mark had enough time to knock Taeil out. After Renjun left him alone with the body, he finished the job.”

“And what about Taeyong? Mark was with his roommates, wasn’t he?” Winwin asked.

“No, he wasn’t,” Yangyang said. “Mark told them he wanted to be alone.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, the atmosphere turning solemn. After a moment, Yuta turned to Mark, the betrayal in his eyes enough to make Mark’s cool mask crumble. “Do you have anything to add?” He asked.

Mark couldn’t hold his friend’s gaze. “It wasn’t me,” he said weakly. “I found Taeil, I swear. Jisung killed him.”

“It’s okay,” Haechan whispered, setting a hand on his knee. “I know you didn’t want to. None of us resent you.”

Based on the way Doyoung was looking at him, Winwin doubted that was true. There was nothing but hatred in his usually friendly brown eyes.

“Time to vote?” Winwin suggested hesitantly.

Kun nodded numbly, and they all pulled out their phones.

Winwin paused, looking down at Jisung’s picture, and briefly wondered if they were mistaken, then switched to the picture of Mark. They couldn’t doubt themselves. they couldn’t afford it, not at this point.

As soon as the last vote was cast, the projector lit up.

_Welcome back! Starting to get the hang of the game yet? I hope so, because you still have a long way to go! The guilty player this round was Mark, did you get it right? I’m sure you did, you guys are all so smart. Such a shame to lose a friend, but you’ve gained new skills, and really, isn’t that more important?_

Johnny scoffed, his arms folding across his chest. “Yeah, sure. Just wait until I use these new ‘skills’ to slit your throat once I find you.”

 _Time to face the consequences of your actions, Mark. Remember where Chenle went? Right through those doors, and you can be with your friend! See you all in two days!_ Then the screen went dark.

Mark stood up, his legs shaking.

“Wait, what if you don’t go?” Haechan said, grabbing his arm. Mark shook his head, now looking defeated. 

“I don’t want to cause any more trouble,” he said. “Just...try not to die, okay, Haechan?”

He walked through the doors, same as Chenle, silently trudging towards an unknown fate. Johnny closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t watch, and Winwin did as well.

This really was the worst part of this twisted game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone have any suspicions about who Indigo might be? I haven't been giving away many hints yet, so it's probably hard to narrow down. Who knows, it might even be Jaehyun! Lol


	6. Drippin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer than usual! I felt like in some of the previous chapters I didn't make it very clear who the main suspects were before trial, so the reader didn't have a lot of time to try and figure it out on their own. I attempted to fix that in this chapter, so hopefully you guys can play along a bit better now!

“Do you think it’s best if we let the rest of the group know where we’re going from now on?” Doyoung asked during breakfast. His suggestion was met with immediate agreement. They had already lost six of their friends, and were willing to do anything to prevent another death, even though they all knew it was hopeless at this point.

“I think we should have mandatory meetup times, too,” Winwin added. “It’ll make narrowing down the time of death easier.” He made a face. “I hate that I even have to say that.”

Yuta nodded solemnly. “No, you’re right. Every so often we’ll meet up here, in the cafeteria. We should decide on a time now, while we’re all here.”

“Let’s have one every two hours,” Hendery said.

“Shouldn’t it be more frequent than that?” Haechan spoke up. “We should always know where everyone else is. You’re making it too easy for the killer!”

Hendery snorted, his arms folding across his chest almost defensively. “Doing it too often will become a hindrance, we’ll spend half our day going back and forth between the cafeteria. And if people would just stay in groups in the first place, it would be a whole heck of a lot more difficult for the killer!”

Haechan bristled, his hands clenching into fists on top of the table. “Are you saying that it’s the victim's fault for being alone?”

Yangyang winced at the tension in the air. “Guys, this isn’t really the time. We’re trying to have breakfast. Hendery isn’t implying anything-”

“Stay out of this!” Haechan growled. “Of course you’d stand up for your friend. He’s acting really suspicious right now, giving the killer a wide gap of time where he’ll be able to kill without anyone checking up on him! Are you trying to make things easier for yourself?” The bite to his words made Yangyang’s blood go cold.

“There’s no reason to accuse one another of anything!” Kun stepped in. “Nothing has happened yet, and Hendery is right. Constantly going back and forth between the cafetera will become tiresome after a while.”

“So every two hours, then? Are we decided?” Yuta asked, and everyone agreed, including Haechan. Xiaojun and Yangyang exchanged worried glances. Hendery had been acting strangely aggressive recently. Yangyang was sure it was just the stress, but it was making him look bad. He just hoped that after the killer struck, Hendery had a strong enough alibi to dispeal everyone else's suspicions.

Jsiung started collecting everyone’s plates without a word. Jaemin, Renjun, and Jeno followed him into the kitchen like bodyguards. After being suspected twice in a row, he would make an easy target to frame, and they weren’t taking any chances.

“We’re going back to our room,” Ten said after they left, motioning to him and Winwin.

“So am I,” Haechan said.

Yuta stood up as well. “I’m going down to the library. I’ve been reading mysteries to give myself more ideas on how to catch the killers.”

Xiaojun’s face lit up. “Can I join you? There’s safety in numbers, right? And I want to read as well.”

“Sure,” Yuta agreed, and the two of them left.

Yangyang debated going back to his room, but the stress of the past couple days was overtaking his mind, threatening to drown him. He had to do  _ something _ , or he’d go insane. “I’m going to head down to the pool for a bit,” he announced.

“Alright, just be safe,” Hendery said, flashing him a warm smile. Yangyang found himself smiling back.

“You too,” he said, then went up to his room to get his swim trunks and an extra change of clothes. He kept looking over his shoulder, slightly paranoid that he’d catch sight of someone following him, but there was no one there.

He changed in the boys locker room, then hurried to the poolside. As soon as he sunk beneath the water he felt safer, more at home. He knew he was being ridiculous. Hendery knew where he was, and the killer probably didn’t...unless they had been in the room when he said that, but he figured they wouldn’t risk trying to kill him right now.

With each pump of his arms, he felt a little better - a little lighter.

_ Splash! _

Yangyang turned, trying to see who had jumped into the pool, but he could only make out a dark shape moving towards him. Alarmed, he turned to swim away, but in his panic he had swallowed a mouthful of water, and his lungs burned. He swam to the surface, desperate for air, but a pair of arms wrapped around him, dragging him down.

He tried to shout, but in vain. His ears were ringing, his eyes burned from the chlorine, and everything inside of him screamed to escape. 

In a last attempt to free himself, he twisted violently, kicking out blindly until his knee met his attacker’s stomach. The grip around his waist loosened, but only for a second, and Yangyang barely had enough time to suck in a mouthful of air before he was pulled below the surface once more. He tried to wiggle free, but whoever was trying to kill him was stronger than he was, and after one last feeble attempt to break free, he gave up.

Dark spots swam in the corners of his field of vision, and his head spun, distracting him from the painful ache in his chest as his lungs screamed for air.

_ How will Xiaojun and Hendery react when they find out?  _ He found himself wondering, letting his eyes drift shut.  _ I hope they aren't too upset. _

_ Hendery...Xiaojun...I'll miss you both. _

-

"It's been too long," Xiaojun repeated once more. "Are you sure he's really swimming? It's been two hours, he should be done by now. Can we go check on him, please?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Johnny reassured him.

Ten grimaced, his stomach turning as he listened. He had felt sick with anxiety ever since this ‘game’ started, and it was even worse than usual today. Having this new check in system made everything feel even more real. It was only their first one, and already someone was missing.

"He's on his way, I'm sure of it," Hendery said, though he didn't seem sure of his own words. "He probably got caught up in swimming and forgot to check the time."

Kun checked the time on his phone, his brows furrowing with concern. "Maybe we should check on him, just in case. In this situation, we have to be careful."

To Ten's left, Jaemin shuddered. "I hope we're just being paranoid," he said weakly. "I don't want to see another dead body as long as I live."

"Can't we stop talking about this, please?" Jungwoo begged, his expression pained. "It's all I can think of as it is!"

The room went quiet. Ten and Winwin exchanged glances, both knowing they couldn't just ignore what was happening.

It only took a few minutes of silence before Doyoung spoke up. "We should go check up on him, just to be sure. You can wait here if you'd like, Jungwoo, but I think it's important that we're sure he's okay."

Jungwoo, Jisung, and Jeno chose to stay behind. Ten wondered if it would be worse to wait and hear the bad news later, or to see it with your own eyes. Then he remembered when he had found Jaehyun with Winwin, remembered the glassy look in his eyes, and decided with a shiver that it was better to hear it from someone else.

“When did Yangyang go to the pool?” Renjun asked as they walked. None of them seemed to be in a rush to get to the pool, except for maybe Xiaojun, who was at the head of the group, looking ready to break into a sprint at any moment.

“After breakfast,” Hendery answered, voice thick with distress. “He left shortly after you guys went into the kitchen.”

“He told you where he was going, right? Who else was there?” Renjun pressed, already in detective mode though they had yet to confirm whether Yangyang was dead or not. Ten’s heart sank. He knew what they would find. Yangyang wasn’t the kind of guy to skip out on something as important as this.

Hendery’s voice rose an octave, despite his best attempts to act calm - probably for Xiaojun’s sake. “It was Doyoung, Johnny, Jungwoo, Kun, and I. Everyone else had left by then. No one else knew he was going to be swimming alone.”

“I don’t get why he would do that,” Johnny said. “Why go to a secluded place by himself, and then tell a group that he was doing it when one of us could’ve easily been the killer? It’s almost like he was asking for something to happen.”

Yuta’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Careful what you say, Johnny. It almost sounded like you were defending the killer.”

Johnny’s eyes went wide with panic, and he quickly backpedalled. “I didn’t mean anything by that, I was just saying that I thought it was odd!”

“He’s right, it is weird,” Winwin agreed, coming to Johnny’s defence.

By now they had reached the door to the locker room. It sat ajar, the interior hard to see due to the fact that lights were off. Ten didn’t think Yangyang would turn the lights off if he was planning on coming back in. Had the killer turned them off?

_ You don’t know for sure that he’s dead,  _ he reminded himself, but deep in his chest, he knew it. Another one of their friends had fallen.

“Yangyang?” Xiaojun called, the hopeful uptick to his question making Ten’s heart ache. “You missed our first check in...did you forget?”

He was met with silence.

“He’s probably in the pool,” Xiaojun said out loud, to himself. No one else spoke. Hendery set a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Xiaojun pushed it away with a forced, broken laugh. “He’s fine, I can feel it,” he said lightheartedly, despite the tears building up in the corners of his eyes. “I know he’s okay.”

Ten didn’t know how much more of this he could take, he already felt like he was about to cry. Not for his own sake, specifically, or for Yangyang, but for his roommates. He knew personally how hard it was to wake every morning and have the first thing you see be an empty bed across from you.

There was no sound of splashing, no sign of anyone being there. Ten followed the rest of the group to the edge of the pool, where they all stopped, scanning the water.

On the verge of tears, Xiaojun backed away from the pool, refusing to look. “He must’ve gone back to our room. We...we just missed him,” he said, nearly hysteric. “I’ll go get him!”

Ten sucked in a breath when he saw the dark shape on the far end of the pool.

“Xiaojun,” Kun started sympathetically, but Xiaojun just shook his head stubbornly, then turned to leave.

“You guys can wait here,” he choked out. “I’ll be back once I find him.”

He ran off before anyone else could try to stop him, and for a second Ten thought Hendery was going to chase after him, but apparently he thought better of it. 

“You guys saw too, right?” Haechan asked quietly.

Jeno sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Who should get him? We can’t leave just him in there,” Doyoung said. Ten looked away, the sight making him feel nauseous.

“I can get him,” Kun offered. “I might need help, though.”

“I can,” Ten said without thinking. The thought of touching a corpse repulsed him, but Yangyang was his  _ friend _ , and he should be with the others. “Let’s just get this over with quickly, okay?”

Kun nodded grimly.

“I’m going to see if I can find anything that might hint at the killer. We’ve narrowed it down to five so far, but that isn’t enough,” Renjun said. “If any of you guys find anything, let me know.” And then he left.

Fighting back tears, Ten followed Kun to the edge of the pool.


	7. Another Player Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the, what? Two week? Three week wait? I don't even remember. I took a little break, since A) I wanted to focus more on some fluffy fanfics since I just wasn't up to writing about murder, and B) I have a writing contest I'm entering soon and have been putting more effort into that. I doubt there will be another gap that long between updates. This chapter is a bit longer, just to make up for it.
> 
> _Heads up: I will be going back and changing how the trials work! Now, instead of using an automated voice, Indigo communicates through text only. Not only was it a bit cliché (not like that really bothers me), but it caused some complications in the story, and in future chapters it would've become a blatant plot hole that just needs to be removed._

Last time had seemed so easy. They had two people to pick between, but now there were five. Jeno couldn't see Hendery killing his roommate, but then again, it would make him look less suspicious. Kun could've done it, though he was pretty close with Yangyang as well. Johnny had been acting strange, but not strangely enough to accuse him of murder, and Jungwoo had been refusing to even mention Yangyang ever since his body was found, much less help with the investigation. Doyoung was just quiet, but he had yet to do anything extremely suspicious.

Jeno knew he was being too forgiving, but he couldn't picture any of his friends as killers. If he had to pick one of them that seemed the most likely, he'd say Jungwoo, but his actions could be explained away by all the grieving he was going through. He had lost his boyfriend and roommate within a few days of each other, of course he wouldn't be acting like himself.

On top of trying to figure out who the killer was, Jeno and Jaemin had been trying to find Indigo as well.

"I feel like Haechan is too passionate about finding Indigo for it to be him," Jaemin had said that night as they lay in bed, unable to sleep. "It could be an act, but if it is, it's a good one."

"Ten and Winwin aren't really participating with the group recently, haven't you noticed?" Renjun pointed out.

"Neither has Jungwoo," Jeno added. "But they've all dealt with losses recently, so it makes sense."

There was a pause. "I doubt it's Jisung," Jaemin eventually said. "We've spent so much time with him recently, I feel like we would've noticed if he were acting strange."

“We can’t use that as a way to rule people out. No one has been acting all that different, and those who are can easily be explained away by the stress put onto them by the situation we’re in. We need more solid evidence,” Renjun said, his frustration evident.

Jeno knew he was right, but he wasn’t about to lose hope. They could find Indigo, they just had to think outside the box. He’d have to slip up eventually. No one is perfect.

“So we can’t figure out who the killer is, or who Indigo is,” Jaemin said, letting out a hopeless sigh. “I’m too tired to think anymore for tonight.”

“We have trial tomorrow,” Renjun said, sounding equally as tired as Jaemin. “We need to save our energy.”

Even after the lights were turned off, Jeno still couldn’t turn off his brain. He wanted to find Indigo more than anything, to avenge his dead classmates and prevent any more of them from becoming killers. He had never been good at murder mysteries, but he was determinded to figure this one out.

-

“We have something we want to ask you all,” Jaemin said, but Haechan didn’t look up from his breakfast. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Ever since Mark left - he refused to accept that he was dead - Haechan felt just miserable.

“Shoot,” Johnny said.

Renjun’s face was serious, almost too serious, as he looked around the room. Haechan’s mouth went dry. Had he figured out the killer already? He knew Renjun was good, but not that good, surely? They hadn’t found any evidence yet.

“I need to know your colors,” he said.

Winwin looked around nervously, as if afraid one of the others would suddenly pull out a knife and start stabbing them. “But...Indigo said we couldn’t say our colors, didn’t he?”

“We’re trying to figure out who Indigo is so we can end this sick game,” Jaemin explained. Jeno sat silently by his side, staring off into space.

“Indigo is smart, he won’t just tell you who he is,” Yuto pointed out bluntly.

Renjun winced. “Well...it’s a start, at least.”

“I’m red,” Hendery offered helpfully, not seeming worried about the possible consequences. “I have nothing to hide.”

“And I’m Mint,” Jaemin added, also not caring that Indigo might slit his throat in his sleep or something. “I’m sure that if we all break the same rule, Indigo won’t do anything. It would be silly to kill us all, it would ruin his game.” Then he hesitated. “Right?”

Jeno nodded, seeming more sure than his friend was.

“Well, I’m Magenta,” Jisung said. “And I saw Lucas’s phone, and his color. He’s periwinkle. Though...I suppose we all know he can’t be Indigo, since he’s dead.”

“What color are you, Doyoung?” Renjun asked, a surprising bite to his words. Did he suspect Doyoung or something? He seemed like one of the least likely to be Indigo in Haechan’s eyes.

“Silver,” he answered without hesitation. “What about you?”

“Coral,” Renjun answered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s a strange color choice. Why silver?”

Doyoung stared back at him blankly. “I don’t know, ask Indigo.”

“Guys, stop it, seriously,” Ten groaned, rubbing at his temples. “There’s been too much fighting recently. We can’t just go around accusing each other without reason. And why does this matter so much to you guys? Indigo will just lie about his color.”

“What are you?” Renjun asked, and Ten sputtered for a minute, looking weirdly panicked at the question, as if he had forgotten, or was trying to come up with one on the spot.

“Green,” he eventually said. “I’m Green.”

Winwin looked at his hands, expression pained, but Haechan didn’t feel like asking why.

“This isn’t helping us find the killer,” Kun pointed out. “We can discuss this another time. Right now, I’m going to go search the pool area, and see if I can find anything.”

“Wait,” Jaemin called after him. “Can you tell us your color, first?”

Kun sighed, but answered over his shoulder anyway, “Maroon.”

-

Kun came back empty handed, only finding Yangyang’s extra change of clothing and a bottle of water in his locker. “His phone is missing,” Kun said, perched on the edge of his mattress. “Do you think someone took it?”

“It’s a possibility,” Yuta said, his frustration rising. “Even though that makes no sense. How is his phone going to help them? I guess we could search everyone’s rooms for it, and that could lead us to the killer.”

“The killer probably hid it,” Doyoung pointed out. He usually didn’t help with the investigation much, but apparently being a suspect motivated him.

Yuta scowled, flopping down on Taeil’s bed - or what used to be Taeil’s bed. He felt a bit guilty for messing up the neatly arranged pillows and wrinkling the sheets. It looked as if neither Kun nor Haechan had touched it since their roommate died.

Sitting on his top bunk, Haechan was on his own phone, most likely trying to block out the conversation.

“Well, out of our five suspects, who seems the most likely to take someone’s phone?” Jisung asked from his seat on the floor. He had followed them up here, saying he wanted to help figure things out, but he had yet to say anything before now.

Kun shrugged. “None of us, I guess. I don’t know why the killer would want a phone. I know he doesn’t lock it, but it’s not like there’s anything useful on there, right?”

“There has to be something more than just that,” Yuta sighed.

“I thought that I might be able to find damp spots on the carpet, but they must’ve dried by now. I wished I had thought of it sooner,” Kun said.

Haechan’s head jerked up so fast it hit the ceiling. “Wait, I just thought of something!” He gasped, rubbing the back of his head. “The killer drowned him, right? Their hair would have been wet. Did anyone have wet hair?”

Doyoung shook his head. “I had that thought too, but none of the people it could’ve been had wet hair. They probably used one of the hairdryers in the locker room.”

“Do you think the killer had a change of clothes hidden somewhere? Or at least a swimsuit?” Jisung asked. “You’d think the killer would’ve rushed, since four other people knew Yangyang were there and could have checked up on him at any time. In fact, I’m surprised Hendery didn’t do it sooner, seeing how paranoid he’s become.”

“Yeah, that is kind of weird,” Doyoung said with a frown.

Yuta didn’t think Hendery seemed suspicious, at least, not compared to Johnny, who was - at the moment - Yuta’s prime suspect. It’s not just their behavior he looked at, but how likely it was that they could overpower Yangyang based on their height and how strong they were in comparison to him.

Jungwoo probably _could’ve_ drowned Yangyang if he caught him by surprise, but Yangyang wouldn’t just sit there, he would've fought back. They were similar in height, but Yangyang was more comfortable in the water, and he’d have the upper hand.

Kun and Doyoung might struggle, but they could do it if they were desperate enough.

Hendery was a couple inches shorter, and Yuta couldn’t see him bringing himself to kill one of his closest friends.

Johnny, on the other hand, wasn’t as close with Yangyang, and he definitely had a height advantage. It wasn’t enough to accuse him, but it was something, at least.

“Do you think the killer went back and moved his stuff sometime after? He wouldn’t have had much time after killing Yangyang, an hour and a half at the most, and in that time he had to fully dry off. Plus, none of us were gone for a suspiciously long time,” Kun said. “So maybe they came back last night sometime and moved everything?”

“Makes sense to me,” Jisung agreed.

“I’m mostly suspicious of Jungwoo, he’s been acting very standoffish the past two days,” Haechan said.

“He lost his boyfriend and his roommate back to back, of course he’s been closed off,” Kun said. “And I don’t think he’d go for Yangyang. He could’ve easily killed Yuta in his sleep if he were the killer, since they’re the only ones in their room.”

“It would be so obvious it was him, though. Jungwoo isn’t dumb, he’d never kill his roommate,” Yuta said.

"I hope someone else has come up with a better idea than us, or we're doomed," Doyoung said, and Yuta couldn't agree more.

-

Xiaojun felt pathetically small during the trial, hunched over in his chair with his arms wrapped around himself in a way that should be comforting, but it didn't help all. He felt numb, cold. Every death so far had struck him hard, but this one didn't even compare. He _loved_ Yangyang. Yangyang, along with Hendery, was his best friend, his roommate, and now he was gone. Just like that, no warning whatsoever.

Yesterday, he was here. Today, he was gone.

"Should we go through the suspects?" Ten asked, wringing his hands together. "I think I know who it is, but I want to be sure."

"I think we can rule out Hendery," Yuta said, and something inside of Xiaojun relaxed. Still curled in on himself, he scooted closer to Hendery, searching for comfort from his remaining roommate. "He doesn't have the size or muscle to overpower Yangyang, and I doubt he'd go after Yangyang to begin with," Yuta continued. "In my eyes, at least, he's innocent."

Hendery didn't say anything, but his relief was tangible. Xiaojun felt the same way. He couldn't bear to lose his two best friends within a day of each other.

Jaemin sat up in his seat, expression unusually serious. "What about Doyoung? His hair is dark, so it would be hard to see if it were a bit wet. He's big enough, right?"

Doyoung blinked, looking startled by the accusation, as if he had forgotten he were one of the five suspects. "Me?" He asked, voice cracking. "But I didn't...I would never!"

"We still have three other suspects," Kun pointed out calmly. "Doyoung...don't get too worked up, okay?"

"You know you're a suspect too, right Kun?" Renjun asked.

Kun shrugged. "So? Just because I'm a suspect doesn't mean I can't help with the investigation. I still want to find the killer. In fact, I want to find him even more now."

"Kun is strong enough," Xiaojun said, forcing himself to speak up. "He could've done it."

"I could've, but I wouldn't have. Yangyang was like a little brother to me," Kun insisted. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I wouldn't have killed Yangyang."

There was a pause, and then Jisung spoke up. “What about Johnny?” He asked, saying what was on everyone else’s mind. It was no secret that Johnny looked the most guilty out of the five.

Johnny looked up from the floor, his elbows braced up on his knees, seeming surprisingly calm considering the accusation. “I didn’t do it,” he said, his voice not quite desperate, just firm. The intensity in his eyes made Xiaojun wince. “I couldn’t have done it, I was in my room, and I never had wet hair or clothes. Did you find any of my stuff when you checked the pool, Kun?”

Their eyes met, and Xiaojun was stunned by the venom in both of their gazes. So far, there hadn’t been much of an issue between those being accused. There had been some tension, of course, but never this type of aggression.

“No, I didn’t. Whoever killed Yangyang must’ve hid the evidence before I got there,” he said smoothly, eyes narrowed. “Can you prove you were in your room? Was anyone else with you?” He grinned when he saw uncertainty that flickered across Johnny’s face.

“Doyoung wasn’t there…” he started, and all eyes turned to Doyoung, who had been partially hiding behind Doyoung ever since their little argument broke out.

“Huh? Where was I when?” He asked. “While Johnny was alone in our room? I had been in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and what not. Jeno saw me, right?”

Jeno nodded. “I did,” he confirmed. “He had been combing his hair when I went in.”

“What about Jungwoo?” Haechan asked. “Does he have an alibi?”

“Not a good one,” Jungwoo admitted. “I had gone off alone after breakfast to visit the graveyard. You know...that classroom where we keep the dead bodies? I...I wanted to see Lucas again.” He sucked in a shaky breath, trying to hold back his tears. “I miss him so much, I...I had to see him again, just one last time.”

Xiaojun doubted Jungwoo could’ve faked the emotion on his face, and though he hadn’t put much thought into who Indigo was - unlike Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, who seemed obsessed with finding him - Xiaojun knew it couldn’t be Jungwoo. He’d never have started something like this if he knew he might lose Lucas because of it.

“So that brings us back to Johnny, then,” Kun said, and Johnny practically snarled.

“What about you? Where’s your alibi?” He shot back.

Renjun, who had been oddly silent during the entirety of the trail, stepped in. “Guys, let’s think about this logically, okay? I know it’s your lives at risk, but the more you lash out the guiltier you look. I think we need to figure out who would’ve had the time to hide their stuff first, since that’s our biggest clue so far.”

“How do we even know they hid their stuff after killing Yangyang?” Ten asked.

“If he had gone in the pool after Yangyang, which is what it looks like, then he would’ve had to use a towel,” Yuta explained. “Not to mention a swimsuit, but we found neither in the locker rooms, and no one saw anyone carrying them around, so the killer must’ve hid them and come back for them later.”

And then it clicked in Xiaojun’s mind, so obvious he nearly facepalmed. How had they not seen it before? “Guys,” he started, finding himself laughing despite the circumstances. Maybe losing your dear friend made you go crazy. “We are so dumb. The answer has been obvious, we’re just overcomplicating things.”

“Xiaojun,” Hendery said gently, setting a hand on his shoulder, and the firm grip made Xiaojun’s smile fall away.

“Only one person went off to the pool by themselves,” he continued, more serious now. Rage, pure and unadulterated, slowly built up behind all of the sorrow he felt. “He’s been acting like he’s helping, trying to find out who killed Yangyang, but all he’s been doing is turning us on Johnny.”

“You’re saying it’s Kun?” Jisung asked, clearly confused. “But he’s put so much effort into finding the killer…”

“He always does,” Xiaojun said. “If he didn’t this time, he’d look suspicious. Everyone would know it was him right away. We all trust him, and since he usually goes out of his way to help after someone dies, we didn’t question him when he went to the pool by himself.”

“He wasn’t looking for evidence, he was covering it up!” Ten gasped, the disgust on his face evident. “And to think I thought you were brave for offering to get Yangyang out of the pool! You were covering up your damp hair or something, weren’t you?”

“You even convinced me that it was Johnny!” Haechan scowled. “I thought you were trustworthy. Why did you target Yangyang, anyways? You were his friend!”

Kun swallowed thickly, his eyes moist with unshed tears. “He went off alone. You don’t know the panic, or the urgency that comes with being chosen. You don’t have a choice, you go after the first possible victim, friend or no. If you get picked, you’ll understand.”

“No, I won’t,” Haechan snapped. “Why don’t we vote already? We know who it is.”

Xiaojun usually hesitated, hating the thought of being partially responsible for a classmates death, but this time he didn’t. He had no sympathy for Yangyang’s killer.

_The third trial already, huh? It seems like just yesterday we started! Looks like you guys found the guilty party, Kun was the killer. Aren’t you proud of yourselves? Come on Kun, don’t be shy! You’ll get to learn what your friends saw in the last few moments, so say goodbye to all your friends, and go through those doors like Mark did before you. Hahaha._

Once the screen switched off, Kun stood up, accepting his fate far better than Mark had. He managed a small, heartbreakingly apologetic smile. “It may not mean anything at this point, but I'm truly sorry for killing Yangyang,” he said.

Xiaojun closed his eyes, trying to fight back the urge to lunge at him. “Don’t say his name ever again,” he whispered, and Hendery pulled him closer, the feeling of his arms only serving to bring Xiaojun closer to the verge of tears.

“Wait,” Hendery said. “Can we have his phone back? I know the killer took it. Please, we...we have a lot of photos with him on there.”

Xiaojun opened his eyes to see Kun pulled Yangyang’s phone from his pocket and hand it to Hendery, who nodded gratefully.

“Kun,” he said, letting go of Xiaojun to stand in front of Kun, hand outstretched. “I just want you to know, I forgive you.”

Kun took his hand, his throat constricting visibly as he tried not to cry.

“Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled away, turning to the door that held his fate. Without a second glance over his shoulder, he bravely walked to his death, shoulders squared. Xiaojun looked away when the door closed behind him.

-

“It’s just me now,” Haechan said, looking at the clock with something akin to fear on his face. “Both of my roommates are gone.”

“Do you want someone to guard you?” Jeno asked, looking up from his phone. “We’ve been staying with Jisung to keep him safe, and we’ve got people to spare. One of us could join you.”

Jisung looked up as well. “Speaking of which, can I go back to my own room? I’m grateful for your help, but I can hardly sleep in your room. I’m sure it’ll be fine as long as we don’t tell anyone else, right? They’ll think I’m still with you,” he said, and Renjun hesitantly agreed.

Haechan sighed, drawing Jeno’s attention back to him. “I would like a roommate, maybe just for tonight. I always feel on edge after a trial.”

“No worries, I can stay with you,” Renjun offered. “Just don’t kill me in my sleep, or I’ll haunt you forever.”

Haechan laughed, seeming to relax. “I’ll try to contain myself, then.”

They all went their separate ways, with Jeno and Jaemin now alone. After changing into his pajamas, Jeno started to climb into his bed, but Jaemin stopped him once he was halfway up the ladder.

“Hey, can you sleep with me tonight?” He asked. “I know that sounds weird, but I get nervous, and without Renjun across from me…”

Jeno quickly jumped down, more than willing for multiple reasons. “Of course I can. Don’t get embarrassed, it’s just me. I won’t judge you for being nervous.”

Jaemin nodded, clearly relieved. They crawled into bed together, and Jeno found himself flushing up to his ears when Jaemin curled up against his chest.

“Night, Jeno,” he hummed, his eyes already drifting shut.

Jeno gingerly set a hand on Jaemin's side, not quite sure how he’d react, but Jaemin didn’t say anything, nor did he shrug him off, so Jeno figured he didn’t mind it. “Goodnight, Nana,” he said back. “I’ll keep you safe tonight, I promise.”


	8. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I loved writing it ^-^
> 
> (Also btw, in the last chapter I wrote that Johnny and Jungwoo were roommates...I must've been tired or something because Johnny is roommates with Doyoung and Jungwoo is with Yuta. So yeah, I fixed that.)

His phone screen lit up from inside the blanket cocoon he had built around himself. His heart plummeted when he saw that it was a minute after nine. He didn't even need to read the text to know what it said, but he read it anyway, unable to keep himself from hoping.

_Hello Blue, hope you aren't asleep! I'm sure you already know, but you've been chosen as the next murderer! You have twenty four hours to complete your task, or I'll turn the school into a giant BBQ party! I like hotdogs as much as anyone, but that would be such a lame way to end the game. Have fun, and don't let anyone know it's you, or you'll end up like your friend Kun ;)_

Lips curled back in disgust, he deleted the text, partially out of rage and partially because if someone were to look through his phone he'd be toast.

Who could he kill? He knew it would be hard to get one of the others alone, unless he laid some sort of trap. He glanced over the edge of the wooden slats, down at the bed below him. He could just barely make out the sleeping form in the dark.

The thought left as soon as it came. That would make him look undoubtedly guilty. Not only would he be killing the most obvious victim in his position, he’d be eliminating a huge threat to himself. No, it was too risky. Besides, he seemed to know more than most, and out of all of them, he’d be their best bet to finding Indigo.

A trap it was, then.

He burrowed himself deeper into his blankets, the corners of his eyes already damp with tears. Losing his friends hurt bad enough, but now he had to kill one of them.

Maybe he’d get lucky and kill Indigo by accident.

-

Doyoung couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, but he knew that was nonsense. He was in one of the unused classrooms with Johnny and Ten, the three of them skimming over some of the leftover textbooks. There was nothing else to do, really, other than wait around for someone to be murdered.

The door opened, and all three of them looked up to see Jaemin standing in the doorway. “Hey guys, have you seen Jisung anywhere?” he asked, keeping his tone light despite the rising panic in his eyes. “I know he said this afternoon that he wanted to be alone, but I’m worried about him. Last time someone went off alone like that they died, and Jisung’s already been through so much, I just want to keep him safe.”

“I haven’t seen him,” Ten said, turning back to his book, as if the history of Greece was more interesting than the conversation. Doyoung figured he was just trying to act calm for Jaemin's sake, but it wasn't helping.

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he went to another classroom? I know they’ve turned into hangout spots since this whole thing started.”

Jaemin sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Thanks anyway,” he said, and then left, closing the door behind him. Doyoung turned back to his book, the skin at the back of his neck no longer prickling like it had been before.

-

If Jisung died because he hadn’t been able to find him in time, Jaemin would never forgive himself. He had taken it upon himself to watch over the younger boy. He’d make sure Jisung got out alive, no matter what.

He checked all of the classrooms, like Johnny had suggested, but they were all empty. Starting to panic, Jaemin ran back up the stairs to double check both his room and Jisung’s room, but he wasn’t in either of them. Their school wasn’t very big, and there weren’t many other places to hang out. Had he gone down for dinner already? It was only three in the afternoon, surely he wouldn’t be down in the kitchen this early, but where else could he be?

He bumped into Haechan and Renjun on the way down to the cafeteria, but he didn’t stop to talk. He didn’t even spare them a glance, too preoccupied with the thought of finding his missing friend. He thought he heard Haechan say something, but he didn’t hear what.

When Jisung wasn’t in the cafeteria, he felt his last bit of hope fade.

 _He can’t be dead...anyone but Jisung, please_ , he repeated to himself.

“Hey, Jaemin?” A voice said from behind him. _Haechan_. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off today. Renjun is worried for you.”

Jaemin nodded, though it was a blatant lie. He felt like he was about to be sick. “I can’t find Jisung,” he said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “I think...I think he’s…”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” Haechan said sharply, setting a firm hand on Jaemin’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s hanging out by himself somewhere. No one would lay a hand on Jisung, even if they were chosen as the killer,” he said, but Jaemin knew it wasn’t true.

 _Jisung is scared, alone, and would make an easy target. He’d be the first person they went after._ Jaemin couldn’t bring himself to say it outloud, but he knew the killer wouldn't think twice about killing Jisung. They wanted to kill Indigo, and Jisung was on a few people's suspect list, since he had been especially distant as of late. Jaemin had figured it was because of the pain of losing Chenle getting to him, but not everyone agreed.

_As if sweet Jisung could come up with such a morbid game._

“I want to make sure he’s safe,” Jaemin said out loud. “Could you look for him too, please? I’m going to check the room.” He didn’t clarify which one, not needing to at this point. There was only one room he could have meant, the one he had yet to check.

Haechan nodded grimly. “I’ll go double check his room, see if he went back there. I’m assuming you already checked there?”

“Twice,” Jaemin said, voice cracking.

“Alright, I’ll go check again, just in case. Let’s meet up here, okay?” Heachan said, and Jaemin agreed. They split ways, and Jaemin resisted the instinct to run. He didn’t want to worry anyone else, not yet. They hadn’t found a corpse yet.

On his way there, Jaemin passed Jungwoo, who was lounging against the wall and doing something on his phone. What, Jaemin had no idea, since there wasn’t much you could do, since the wifi was cut and they couldn’t reach anyone outside of the school. “Where are you going?” Jungwoo asked, looking up from his phone.

“Looking for Jisung. I don’t mean to worry you, but I can’t find him.”

Jungwoo’s usual smile fell, replaced with a concerned frown. “Jisung is missing?” He asked, shoving his phone into his pocket. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last time we checked in with Yuta, so an hour ago. He said he wanted to go to his room for a bit, and Jeno walked him up, but then he had to go to the restroom, and when he got back, Jisung was gone. He’s been looking upstairs, but we haven’t been able to find him yet.”

Jungwoo nodded slowly. “Do you guys need help?”

“Haechan is helping us, but we could always use more eyes. I just...I haven’t found a body yet, and I don’t want to scare anyone, but in this situation…” he trailed off, his throat tightening painfully as he choked back terrified tears. There was no way Jisung could be alive, right?

“It’s okay,” Jungwoo soothed. “I’ll help, too. Have you checked the library yet? He might’ve gone there to read for a bit.”

“No, I haven’t. Thank you, Jungwoo,” he said gratefully. “I’m going to see if he’s with Lucas.” The words sounded so normal, but they both knew what he really meant.

Jungwoo left for the library, and Jaemin continued on his way to the room, each step getting harder and harder to take. He had yet to set foot in there, not wanting to see the empty stares of his old friends looking up at him. He saw them enough in his nightmares, he didn’t want to see it in real life.

The door was open, the scent wafting out making Jaemin’s stomach turn. He stepped inside, holding his breath. The first one he saw was Taeil, and he had to look away, the sight too much for Jaemin to handle. He had expected to see a sunken eyed, pale faced corpse, like in the movies. He didn’t prepare himself for the swollen, purple-skinned thing at his feet. It hardly looked like Taeil anymore.

“Jaemin?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, but when he tore his gaze away from the floor he saw it was Jisung, his eyes red from crying.

“You’re not dead,” Jaemin choked out, more relieved than he could express through words. “I thought you were gone.”

“Sorry,” Jisung apologized. “I wanted to see Lucas again. He...I should’ve done this sooner, before he got…” he looked down, where Lucas was tucked between Jaehyun and Taeyong, covered with a towel, just big enough to hide his face. “He was...I couldn't look at it,” Jisung said. “I closed the blinds, too...the sun was making it worse.”

“You can’t stop them from decaying, Jisung,” Jaemin said softly.

“I know, but I want them to last as long as possible. Once we get out, they can have a proper burial, and I don’t want to bury a skeleton.” Jisung let out a defeated sigh. “If I don’t make it out, and you do...make sure they’re all able to get an actual funeral. Even the killers. They’re victims in this, too.”

“We should get back to the cafeteria. Haechan, Jeno, and Jungwoo are worried sick about you. We need to let them know you’re safe,” Jaemin said, and Jisung nodded numbly. He didn’t seem like himself, not at all. “Why...why did you come here, anyway? I thought you didn’t like to look at them after they died.”

“I was told to,” Jisung said, and Jaemin’s blood went cold.

“You were told to? By who?”

But Jisung wasn’t listening. His gaze had fallen on something beyond Jaemin’s shoulder, the color draining from his face.

Jaemin spun around, only to come face to face with one of his classmates. Who, he couldn’t say, since they were wearing a full-face mask, only their dark eyes visible.

Silently, the masked man lunged, brandishing a metal pole like a sword at his side. Jaemin hadn’t been expecting to be attacked, and could only take half a step back before the blunt pole was thrust into his side, the blow not hard enough to crack any ribs, but it was definitely more than a gentle tap. 

Jaemin stumbled back, grabbing for something to defend himself, but there was nothing useful within reach. His attacker swung once more, this time catching the side of his leg, pain blossoming from the spot almost instantly.

“Jisung,” he gasped out, his eyes never leaving his attacker. “Run. Go, tell Jeno and the others. Run!” His voice had turned into a scream by the end, and he felt a sliver of satisfaction at the panic in his attacker’s eyes. _Good, you should be afraid. They’ll catch you, I know it._

Jisung stood still, frozen in place, and Jaemin desperately hoped the masked man would spare him. Jisung was just a child, barely eighteen.

He raised the pole above his head, and Jaemin braced himself for the final blow, knowing he had no way out. He couldn’t run, not with the way his leg felt now - even putting pressure on it hurt like nothing else.

“Go ahead,” he said, voice breaking. He didn’t want to die. He had always thought that he’d be one of the four to escape, selfish as that seemed. He had never been able to picture the game ending any other way. He should’ve escaped, his friends with him. He should’ve been eating dinner with them in a couple hours. He should’ve gone to bed with Jeno at his side once more, since that was the only way he could keep the nightmares at bay.

He wasn’t supposed to die yet.

His attacker - soon to be killer - didn’t seem to agree. Jaemin squeezed his eyes shut, finding himself thinking not about his family, or about Renjun, or Haechan, or even Jisung. The face and name he kept playing over in his head to comfort himself, strangely enough, was Jeno.

He repeated his name over and over in his mind, until he was practically screaming it, and then it stopped, and there was nothing.

-

“I think this one is my favorite,” Hendery said, stopping at a picture of the three of them standing in front of the school gate, all wearing matching uniforms. “This was our first day of school, remember?”

“Yangyang looks so little in this picture,” Xiaojun said fondy. “This wasn’t even that long ago. He must’ve hit a growth spurt.”

Hendery sighed, letting his head fall on Xiaojun’s shoulder. “I miss him so much.”

“Me too,” Xiaojun agreed, voice quiet. “If I had known what was going to happen, I would’ve found a way to stop it.”

Guilt, bitter in his mouth, rose like bile up Hendery’s throat. “It’s my fault, not yours. I let him go off alone in the first place. I didn’t even think to go with him. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s Kun’s,” Xiaojun said firmly. “I don’t blame you at all, so don’t start blaming yourself.”

Hendery couldn’t quite shake the responsibility he felt, but he didn’t want to worry Xiaojun, so he forced himself to smile. “Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I’m glad someone still has faith in me. I feel like the others are all suspicious of me still.”

Xiaojun hummed in acknowledgment of his words, his focus now back on Yangyang’s phone. He exited out of his camera roll, but instead of turning off the phone, like Hendery expected him to, he tapped on the message icon.

“What are you doing?” Hendery asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Checking his color,” Xiaojun answered simply.

“Do you think he could be Indigo?” Hendery asked incredulously. Out of everyone, Yangyang was near the bottom of his suspect list, and not just because they had been close friends. Yangyang didn’t have a cruel bone in his body. “Really? Yangyang?”

Xiaojun shook his head.”No, I don’t think so, and this wouldn't prove it even if he was. Indigo was smart enough to think up this game, there’s no way he’d actually call himself Indigo in his texts, especially not if he keeps his phone unlocked like Yangyang does.”

“You just want to know his color, then,” Hendery said. He was curious too. Not just about Yangyang’s color, but everyone else’s as well.

“Mhmm,” Xiaojun muttered, clicking on the latest text from Indigo - the one from the first day - and let out a sharp hiss through his teeth, suddenly stiffening against Hendery’s side.

“What is it?” He asked at Xiaojun's shift, leaning over to look at the screen.

“His color,” Xiaojun said, his voice cold. “It’s Maroon.”

Hendery frowned, slowly putting the pieces together. “Maroon? But wasn’t that...Kun said his color was maroon, didn’t he?”

Xiaojun nodded, his grip on the phone tightening, and Hendery carefully pried it from his fist before he cracked it.

“He stole Yangyang’s color? Is that why he took his phone after he killed him?” Hendery wondered out loud. “Should we tell the others? This could mean something. Maybe he’s Indigo?”

“Not yet,” Xiaojun said quickly. “Later.”

Hendery didn’t see a point in waiting, but at this point he didn’t want to upset Xiaojun any further, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to talk with the others about it either. They never listened to what he said, anyways.

“Why don’t we get dinner now, before the others do?” Hendery suggested. Xiaojun agreed, relaxing at the thought of food.

If Kun really had been Indigo, did that mean the game had ended? No one had died yet today, and it was nearing the end of the deadline. According to the rules, the killer only had one day. Was it all over? Hendery didn’t want to get his hopes up, and he wouldn’t say anything to Xiaojun, in case he was wrong, but still, he felt his spirits lift, ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *curls up in my bed with my Jaemin photocards and cries*
> 
> I lied, I hated writing this chapter. I've been dreading it since I started.
> 
> At least a few more colors have been revealed! I wonder who Blue is? Hmm...


	9. Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! It's been a rough week, and this was a hard chapter. Still, it's here now, and I think it turned out pretty okay!

Winwin had been starting to think that no one would be killed that day by the time dinner rolled around and no bodies had been found. Most people were accounted for already, and it was still early.

"Do you think we're safe?" Ten asked, voicing Winwin's unasked question out loud.

"There's no way Kun could've been Indigo, though," Haechan said. "He did everything he could to help us."

"He could've been trying to throw us off his trail. He did that after he killed Yangyang, so I wouldn't put it past him," Doyoung said. Winwin might've missed it if he hadn't been looking for it, but Renjun glared at Doyoung out of the corner of his eyes, his distrust evident.

“Kun isn’t like that,” Ten said stubbornly, despite the evidence that said otherwise. Winwin didn’t have the heart to say anything.

Hendery and Xiaojun had been in the middle of eating by the time Winwin and Ten had come down, and they left shortly after, not even bothering to greet them. Their behavior had changed ever since Yangyang died, and Winwin didn’t blame them, but he didn’t like how closed off from the group they had become.

They were supposed to stick together, they were stronger as a group.

“Has anyone seen Jaemin?” Haechan spoke up from Renjun’s side, as if it had suddenly occurred to him that his friend had yet to show up.

“Last I saw him, he was looking for Jisung,” Jungwoo said. “I overheard the two of them talking in the classroom where we’re keeping the bodies, and it seemed like a personal conversation, so I left. I didn’t want to eavesdrop.”

“Jeno is missing, too,” Yuta pointed out. “Do you think he’s with them?”

“No, Jeno is in our room. He’s writing a list of all the colors we know as of right now,” Renjun said. “He’ll be down any minute.”

Winwin picked at his food, feeling anxious all of the sudden. Were there really no deaths yet, or had they missed something?

“We should check on Jaemin and Jisung, just in case,” Johnny said. “I’m probably being paranoid, but I have a bad feeling that something happened to them.”

Winwin opened his mouth to agree, but before he could the doors to the cafeteria opened, cutting him off. Winwin turned, expecting to Jaemin and Jisung, but it was Jeno, with a notebook tucked under his arm.

“Sorry I’m late for dinner,” he apologized, sitting next to Renjun. “I didn’t realize how little we knew until I started marking it down. I only have myself, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Lucas, Kun, Hendery, Ten, and Mark. That’s not even half of us.”

“I still don’t think figuring out colors will help you find Indigo,” Haechan said coolly.

“Still, it’s better than doing nothing, and it’s all we have as of right now,” Renjun said. “What’s your color, anyway? You never told us.”

Haechan rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “And I’m not going to.”

“Okay, fine, be like that. Just keep in mind that you’re going to be our main suspect from now,” Renjun said, and despite his serious tone, he cracked a smile to show he was joking. 

“What’s your color, Winwin?” Jeno asked.

“Olive,” Winwin answered helpfully, fighting down a laugh. They’d never be able to figure out who Indigo was this way, especially since anyone could lie about their color, but it was admirable that they were trying. And Renjun was right, they didn’t have anything else to go by.

Jeno opened his notebook and wrote his answer down.

“Okay, and what about you, Yuta?” Jeno asked, looking up from his notebook.

“Navy,” Yuta answered without hesitation.

Jeno nodded, seeming satisfied with the answers he was getting. “Alright, so that leaves Johnny, Xiaojun, Haechan, and Jungwoo, plus all the people that we've losy. We’re making progress, at least.” He paused, looking around the room, his mouth pulling down into a frown. “Where’s Jaemin? Did he eat already?”

“No, he’s talking with Jisung,” Ten answered.

Jeno nodded stiffly, his eyes darting between the clock and the empty chair across from him. Johnny pushed his plate back.

“Come on, let’s go check on him,” he said, and Jeno dipped his head gratefully. The tension in his shoulders visibly eased.

“I’ll go with you,” Ten offered, and Winwin found himself standing up as well.

The four of them were quiet as they walked to their makeshift gravesite, the only sound being their footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty hall. The door to the classroom was shut firmly, and Winwin swallowed down the bitter taste of fear rising in his throat.

Johnny got there first. He knocked, but no one answered.

“Jaemin? Jisung?” He called, opening the door, just a fraction. Still, no answer.

Johnny pushed the door open, his breath audibly catching. Winwin peered over his shoulder. There were the corpses of their lost friends, lined up along the floor, all covered sheets or towels, probably taken from the locker room. Winwin shudder. The corpses hadn’t been covered before.

“They’re not here,” Johnny said, sounding relieved, but Jeno pushed him aside, his eyes frantic.

“There’s seven of them,” he whispered. “There’s only supposed to be five.”

He fell to his knees, uncovering the face of the nearest body. It was Taeyong, his eyes fogged over like frosted glass, staring up at nothing. Winwin’s stomach rolled.

“No, it’s…” Jeno turned, his eyes falling to the corpse closest to the window. He pointed, his hand shaking so badly he could hardly hold it up. “That one. That one is Jaemin.”

Johnny stepped around him, stopping by the body, hidden under a sheet with gray stripes. Wordlessly, he crouched down and pulled the sheet back, and sure enough, it was Jaemin, his hair matted with dried blood and his face stained with tears.

Jeno just stared, the hopeless look in his eyes heartbreaking. “Nana,” he murmured, his hands balling into fists. “Why would the killer target you?” He wasn’t crying, not yet, but Winwin could see the pain that filled his eyes.

Most of the body so far had been in good shape, either stabbed or strangled with little blood or damage, but Jaemin was a different story. He had a deep gash on his forehead, and multiple bruises already forming on his shoulders, just barely visible under the color of his shirt.

“He was beaten,” Ten said, stating the obvious. “Why...why kill him in such a brutal way? And with what? Those don’t look like marks from someone’s fist.”

“Where’s Jisung, then?” Johnny asked, looking over the covered corpses to find one that resembled the boy. His eyes eventually landed on the one tucked between Lucas and Taeyong. “This one?” He asked, crouching down next to it.

Winwin winced when the ghostly pale face of Jisung was revealed, his eyes closed and his mouth partially agape. Ten did as well, his mouth curling down in a grimace. Jisung looked to be in better shape than Jaemin, but he had an identical gash on the top of his head, and the blood had run down the side of his face, making him appear even more ghastly.

“Another double kill,” Winwin said, stating the obvious.

Johnny tensed, his eyes glued to Jisung’s unmoving form. “Wait,” he said, his tone low, warning. “Be quiet, just for a minute.”

They all watched, waiting for whatever Johnny wanted them to see. A heartbeat later, Jisung’s chest rose and fell. A shallow breath, but a breath all the same.

“He’s alive?” Ten exclaimed, dropping to his side. Winwin stayed put, simply watching for now. “How is that possible? Look at all this blood.”

Jeno turned his back on the group, all of his focus on Jaemin, who looked eerily peaceful, his face lit up by the late day sunlight shining through the blinds.

“What do we do?” Ten asked, voice rising in panic.

“I don’t know,” Johnny admitted. “You’re not supposed to try and wake them, or move them too much. I guess we wait? I don’t think he passed out due to blood loss, or he’d probably be dead by now.”

“How long since this happened?” Winwin asked.

“Well, the blood has time to dry, but I don’t know how long that takes,” Tan said. “Where’s Renjun when we need him? He knows all these random facts about injuries and death and stuff.” Then he paused, his lips pressed into a firm line. “Kind of strange, huh?”

Despite the force laugh he let out, Winwin knew what Ten meant. He didn’t trust Renjun, the same way Renjun didn’t trust Doyoung, and the way Haechan didn’t trust Hendery. Indigo had succeeded in turning them all against each other.

“I’ll go tell the others,” Winwin said, realizing everyone else was still back at the cafeteria, anxiously waiting for them to return. “Then we better hurry and look for clues. This killer was smart, he waited until the last minute to give us less time.” Winwin let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Looks like they’re improving their technique with each kill.”

Ten nodded solemnly. “Let’s hope they don’t end up outsmarting us one of these times.”

-

Jeno sat by Jisung’s bed, keeping watch in case he needed anything. He had forced down his tears, knowing that now wasn’t the time to grieve. Even though Renjun had told him to go back to his own room for the night, Jeno had stubbornly refused. He would take on the role of Jisung’s caretaker, the same way Jaemin had before him.

“What time is it?” Jisung asked, his voice already growing stronger. He had woken up shortly after they found him, and Johnny had carried him back to his room so he could rest.

“Almost midnight,” Jeno answered, and even in the dark, he could see the guilt that flashed across Jisung’s face. “Don’t worry about me, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight anyways.”

That had the opposite effect Jeno was going for. Jisung’s frown deepened, and he went to sit up, but Jeno stopped him.

“It’s fine, really,” Jeno reassured him. “It’s not your fault.”

Jisung broke down into tears, and not for the first time that night. “But it _is_ , I was too gullible, and if I had been thinking straight Jaemin would still be alive!”

Jisung had already given them a rundown of what had happened, starting with the weird letter he had received that morning. It had been short, simply composed of: _Jisung, don’t you think Lucas is getting lonely? You haven’t visited him in days. Take care of him._

It made Jeno shiver when he first read it.

Jisung had gone on to explain how he had brought a towel up to cover Lucas’s face, how Jaemin had found him, and how the two of them had talked before someone came in wearing a mask and carrying some sort of pipe. Yuta found the pipe tucked under one of the shelves in the classroom, covered in dry blood. Jisung showed them the note, but the handwriting was purposely messy, not looking like any of theirs.

Jisung had done his best to describe the killer, but all he could remember was the mask and that they were around his height, which wasn’t all that helpful.

“Even if you hadn’t listened to that letter, the killer still would’ve found a way. If Jaemin was their target, you couldn’t have prevented it,” Jeno said gently, but a part of him wondered if that were really true. If Jisung had refused, would the killer have chosen someone else? Would Jaemin still be alive?

He didn’t blame Jisung, because that wasn’t fair. He had done nothing wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered, sinking further beneath his sheets. “I didn’t protect him. He always protected me.”

“They had a weapon, and you didn’t. I’m just glad you’re alive,” Jeno said honestly. “Now go to sleep, please. You’re still weak.”

“If I had died instead of Jaemin-”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said firmly, but Jisung shook his head.

“You would be happier that way, right? I know you care about me, but Jaemin was your best friend, and my best friend is already dead. I should’ve died instead, it would’ve been better that way. You could still be with Jaemin, and I could be with Chenle.”

Jeno’s stomach turned, and he shook his head adamantly. “No, don’t think stuff like that. Everyone is glad you’re alive, you’re like a little brother to all of us.” This was backward, Jeno thought to himself. He should be the one being comforted.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung said again, sounding miserable. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’ve experienced so much hardship in the past week, no one blames you for getting upset.” Jeno patted his shoulder gently, hoping to soothe the younger boy. Jisung managed a weak smile, letting his eyes drift shut.

“Thank you, Jeno,” he said, and Jeno stayed by his side, waiting until he was sure Jisung was asleep before he broke down into tears.

-

“I saw Jaemin before he died,” Haechan said, fidgeting as Yuta stared him down. This trial felt heavier than usual, an undertone of desperation in the air. They had no clues, other than the note and the bloody pipe, but neither of those proved anything.

“Where?” Yuta pressed, leaning forward in his chair. “What happened?”

“He was looking for Jisung,” Haechan said. “We met up in the cafeteria, and we went separate ways, so we could find him faster. I didn’t see him again after that.”

“And your saying the last time you saw Jaemin was when he asked about Jisung?” Yuta said, turning his attention to Doyoung. “You said you were in a room with Ten and Johnny, right? On the other side of school.”

“Yes,” Doyoung said. “He was only there for a minute or two.”

“Was anyone with him?” Yuta asked. “Was he being followed, did you see? Did anything weird happen?”

Doyoung shook his head. “Nothin that I saw.”

“I have something to add,” Jisung said, voice soft. “When Jaemin found me, he said that Jeno, Jungwoo, and Haechan were looking for me, which must mean they knew Jaemin was out by himself looking for me as well, right?”

“We know it isn’t Jeno, since Renjun was with him. So that leaves Jungwoo without an alibi. What were you doing?” Yuta looked over at Jungwoo. Jungwoo could feel the heat in his eyes, could hear the frantic snap in his voice. “Did you see him?”

Jungwoo sighed, deciding to tell the truth rather than lie and look suspicious. “Yeah, I did. I was on my phone when he walked past, and he asked if I could help him find Jisung. I agreed, and he told me to check their room.”

Haechan looked up, his eyes narrowed. “You did?”

Jungwoo felt something cold and slimy curl up in his belly. Fear? Guilt? Why was he feeling guilty? “Yeah, I did. Why, is that so hard to believe?”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Haechan said. “Because _I_ went to check upstairs.”

Renjun had been quiet for most of the trial, saying he didn’t want to come off as biased since he was still upset by the loss of one of his closest friends. Now, however, he looked up, eyes glinting. “So it’s one of you,” he said. “One of you is lying, your stories conflict.”

“It’s no me,” Jungwoo insisted, instantly jumping to defend himself.

“Well it isn’t me, either,” Haechan growled, his fists clenching.

Jungwoo sneered, letting go of his self control, just a bit. Things had been changing ever since he lost Lucas, and he no longer felt like the sweet, kind hearted boy he used to be. He was hurt and raw and angry, and if Haechan wanted to challenge him then he wouldn’t stop him. “Are you trying to frame me, Donghyuck?”

He rarely called Haechan by his real name, and he could see that it startled him. “I’m not, you’re framing yourself,” he said after a minute. “You slipped up, admit it.”

“I didn’t see either of them,” Jeno said slowly. “I was upstairs at that time, waiting to see if Jisung was going to come back to his room.”

Jungwoo grinned triumphantly, the tiniest flicker of hope growing inside of him. “Well no wonder you didn’t see me, because I went to _your_ room, like Jaemin told me too. He’s staying with you guys, isn’t he?”

Renjun barked out a laugh. “Jaemin wouldn’t have told you to go to our room, Jisung isn’t staying with us anymore. He switched back to his own room a couple days ago. You might want to rethink your alibi.”

Jungwoo’s smile fell, dread creeping up from his very depths, making his toes feel numb. What was this sensation? Why did he feel so cold?

“It’s what he told me,” Jungwoo squeaked out, his throat tightening. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. They’d know if he started to cry.

Jeno’s lips were set in a firm line, and Jungwoo shrunk back, afraid of the anger shining in the depths of his eyes. “Jisung said that the killer was his height,” he said. “And you’re his height, aren’t you? Haechan is too short. You killed Jaemin, then. It fits up. No one saw you that entire morning. Did you avoid us, since you knew we’d figure it out if we saw that you had changed clothes?”

Now Jungwoo understood why Mark had freaked out during his trial, why he had lashed out at everyone that accused him. Survival instincts kicked in hard when your life was threatened. “You’re crazy,” Jungwoo spat. “You have no proof, you’re just going after me because Haechan is your friend.”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Jisung looked up, his face contorted with fear. “I...I think I remember a bit better now. He did it, I’m sure.”

Jungwoo was torn between defending himself and launching himself at Jisung, who looked at him coldly, no mercy to be seen in his brown eyes.

There was no mercy at all, in fact. No one pitied him. No one cared that he had lost his boyfriend and his roommate, that he had been chosen by some twisted act of fate to kill another one of his friends. They didn’t care that he had no choice.

The cold, judging expressions around him blurred as tears filled his eyes. “If you kill me, you’re just as much a monster as Indigo is.”

Jeno stood up, eyes blazing. “You admit it, right? You killed him?”

“So what if I did? Chenle killed Jaehyun and Lucas, and Mark killed Taeil and Taeyong.” Jungwoo turned to Jisung, hoping he could express his rage despite the fact he was sobbing. “Too bad I didn’t kill you as well, if I had been more thorough you wouldn’t be here to accuse me in the first place?”

A hard smack fell down across his face, the sting lasting long after Jeno stepped back.

“And you call us monsters?” He muttered, walking away, and Jungwoo let out a wail when he saw that the others were taking out their phones. He wasn’t ready to die, not yet, but what else could he say?

They would vote for him, no doubt about it. He knew it was pointless, but he took out his phone as well, voting for Jisung, just out of spite.

He wiped his tears away when the screen whirred to life, his lungs burning as he struggled to breathe properly. He knew he looked like a wreck. So much for a dignified end.

_Looks like the killer was Jungwoo! Good job, you guys are on your way to becoming detectives already! Step through those doors, same as your friends. Aren’t you excited to finally know what’s on the other side? Say your goodbyes, though I doubt anyone will miss you after what you’ve done. Bye bye!_

Jungwoo let out one last pathetic sob, knowing that Indigo was right. They wouldn’t care if he died, same as they didn’t care when Kun died. In fact, they had all seemed glad he left. Did they feel the same about him? Would they spit after him as he walked to his death?

He stood on shaking legs, trying not to look at the door on the far end of the room, taunting him. The ones before him had apologized, usually, faced their end with a clear conscience and their head held high, but Jungwoo couldn’t. It was all he could do to stay standing.

He opened the door slowly, prolonging his last few seconds as best he could.

Inside was pitch black, no windows or lights at all. He closed the door behind him, trembling as the darkness seemed to swallow him whole.

Just when he thought he was going to lose it, a small screen lit up at the far end of the room, which he could now see was no bigger than the average bathroom.

_My condolences, looks like you didn’t get away. Let’s hope the next one does better! I won’t hold my breath, though, and neither should you._

Jungwoo blinked, taking a step forward. He stumbled, his leg catching on something. He bent down to feel what it was, since the screen did little to light the room on its own. He was met with the feeling of something firm and cold, covered by some sort of fabric.

It felt like a jacket, almost.

Jungwoo jerked back once he identified what it was. _An arm._

He felt once more, moving up until his fingers brushed over the body’s hair. He couldn’t be sure, but if he had to guess he’d say Kun. Trembling, Jungwoo crawled along the wall, feeling for the rest of his friends.

He found Mark next, sprawled out on the floor as if he had suddenly collapsed. Finally he found Chenle, the boy’s lifeless body hunched over in the corner, as if he had been curled up and crying when he died.

There was a hiss from somewhere above him, making Jungwoo jump.

“I won’t hold my breath, and neither should you,” Jungwoo muttered, echoing Indigo’s words. He thought he was so clever, didn’t he?

A thick, almost disgustedly bittersweet scent filled the air, like rotting fruit and almonds, and the weight of his own demise hit him like a load of bricks. Jungwoo let out an involuntary whimper. This was the end, then. He laid down on the floor by Chenle, holding onto his clammy hand as he waited for the gas to kill him, same as it had done with the others.

“Please wait for me a bit longer, Lucas,” he whispered out loud, doing his best to conjure up the image of his boyfriend’s smile one last time, wanting that to be the last thing he saw before he died. “I’ll be with you soon.”

-

_Don’t leave just yet! Since you guys have made it this far, I think I’ll reward you! Look under the podium and you’ll find a list - if you haven’t found it already, that is. Let’s hope not, what fun is that? You can thank me later!_

Renjun wasn’t in the mood for Indigo’s games, but he stood up and went to look for the list he was talking about like the dutiful player he was expected to be. He found it tucked under a loose slab of wood, a folded piece of paper that had messy handwriting scrawled all over the inside. He returned to his seat, handing it to Haechan.

“You read it,” he said, and Haechan nodded.

Haechan’s eyes widened once he had unfolded up, his lips twitching as he read over it once silently.

“What is it?” Xiaojun asked.

Haechan frowned. “A list of colors. There’s twenty one...do you think they’re _our_ colors? Is Indigo giving us a clue?”

“Maybe,” Johnny said. “Haechan, read it out loud.”

“Black, Blue, Bronze, Coral, Gold, Gray, Green, Magenta, Maroon, Mint, Indigo, Orange, Peach, Periwinkle, Pink, Red, Silver, Teal, Violet, White, and Yellow,” he read, hands gripping the paper so tight it creased under his fingers. “My color is on there, at least.”

Jeno pulled out his own list - something he insisted on carrying with him at all times - and scanned it with furrowed brows.

“There’s no Olive or Navy on there,” he said. “Winwin and Yuta were lying about their colors.” He looked up, eyes wide. “There’s more than one inconsistenty.”

“Either the list is wrong, or they're both lying,” Ten said. “But why?”

“What if someone is using another color on here that isn’t their own? What if they’re using a color that belongs to someone else?” Hendery asked.

Yuta shook his head. “Let’s deal with this tomorrow, okay? It’s already close to our curfew.”

Renjun doubted the group would be as willing to listen to him now that they knew he had been lying, but Renjun agreed with him on this occasion, so he decided to back him.

“He’s right, let’s all go back to our rooms. We can talk this out tomorrow, once we’re rested. Okay?” He looked around the room, as if daring them to argue with him. None of them did.

He returned to his own room that night, letting Haechan join him now that they had an extra bed. Not surprisingly, Jeno insisted on sleeping in Jaemin’s bed, and seeing him curl up with Jaemin’s pillow clutched to his chest was the most heart wrenching thing Renjun had ever seen.

Haechan took the top bunk where Jeno usually slept, and Renjun crawled into his own bed, doing his bed to ignore the sound of Jeno’s muffled sniffles.

He took out his phone, just in case Indigo texted him. It seemed unlikely at this point. He had just lost one of his best friends the day before, being chosen as the next killer would be too cruel. Even fate couldn’t hate him that much.

“Good night,” Haechan called out softly. “Tomorrow will be better for us, I think.”

Renjun desperately hoped he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope having all of the colors helps! Someone commented how they wished they could have a list of all the colors a few chapters back, which I thought was a great idea, so I included it in this chapter.
> 
> EDIT: So I mixed up names and gave Yangyang a line in this chapter, even though he died a few chapters back...whoops XD I did go back and fix it, but seriously, how do I manage?


	10. Romeo and Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going back and polishing up some of the older chapters, since some of them had inconsistencies and typos that needed to be fixed. It was brought to my attention that there was a plot hole I had missed, which is whether or not suicide counts as a kill. Due to the purpose of the game (a.k.a. Indigo's end game, per se) Indigo cannot have anyone sacrificing themselves like that. It goes against his plans.
> 
> I altered the email the characters received in the first chapter, so it now includes this rule. I try not to change too much (story wise) in chapters after I publish them, but this was something that I had meant to bring up originally but forgot. It doesn't change the story much, but I figured I should let you know in case anyone else was wondering about it :)

“Why would he make up a color?”

“Does this means he’s Indigo?”

“Are they working together?”

“Are there two Indigos?”

“We should just kill them now, so this game ends.”

Yuta usually sat at the head of the table during meals, and was usually the one responsible for check in, but not anymore. Renjun had come up to him right before breakfast, asking if he could take Yuta’s job for the time being.

“They’re talking about killing you, Yuta,” he had said seriously. “I don’t think they’ll go through with it, but they’re discussing it, and that’s bad enough. Step down, just for now. Just until this clears over and we get things figured out.”

Yuta would be a fool to argue with that. His life was at stake, after all.

So now he was seated between Johnny and Xiaojun, as if he needed bodyguards. _No_ , he realized. He didn’t need guards, everyone else did. They saw him as a threat.

Getting bitter wouldn't help the situation, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He had been their _leader_ , he had kept things under control when everything had gone to chaos. He took over Taeyong’s role, keeping the others safe as best he could, and now they threw him aside based on some words written on a piece of paper. He took another bite of his breakfast, anger brewing just below his outwardly calm facade.

“Next check in will be in two hours, remember,” Renjun said once they had all finished eating, and hearing those words from someone else made Yuta’s lips curl back in distaste. That was _his_ job, not some kid’s.

They all left, one by one, with Hendery and Xiaojun running off first, like always. Doyoung and Johnny went off to look around the meeting room, in case Indigo had left them any more clues. Yuta knew he hadn’t, and even if he had, he wasn’t dumb enough to leave any more of them in the same place, but he couldn’t say anything now. They wouldn’t listen to him anymore.

“Hey Yuta, can we talk?” Winwin asked quietly, the hurt clear in his voice as he watched Ten leave with Jeno and Jisung.

Yuta nodded, turning to glare at Haechan, who was staring him down with blatant distrust. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” He suggested, and Renjun’s head shot up.

“You can’t do that,” he said, not even bothering to sugarcoat his words. “We can’t let you two go off alone.”

Yuta scoffed. “What do you think we’ll do? Come up with some sick murder game? Oh wait, we already did that, didn’t we?” He said dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look, I trust Winwin, and I know I didn’t do anything, either. If you’re looking for someone to blame, then look elsewhere. We can talk without you breathing down our necks.”

Renjun’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. I do trust you, Yuta. You’ve done a good job taking care of the group, but for now, it’s best if you lay low. I may believe you, but not everyone else does, and going off with our other main suspect only makes you look more guilty.”

“It’s not like we can clear our names by sitting around doing nothing. Let us talk, please.” Yuta held his breath as Renjun pondered that for a minute, letting it out when he eventually gave a sharp nod.

“Fine, but be careful. The others are talking, remember.”

Winwin flinched, turning to Yuta as if looking for help, but Yuta felt completely helpless in this situation. All of his power had been stripped from him.

Renjun and Haechan stayed in the cafeteria, and Yuta took Winwin up to his room, which was now his and his alone. He chose to leave Jungwoo and Taeyong’s side as they left it, making it seem like they were still there, in a way.

Winwin sat down on Yuta’s bed, looking over at the neatly folded sheets on Taeyong’s bed, then up at the utter disaster that was Jungwoo’s bed. “It seems so surreal that they’re gone,” he said after a moment. “I can still feel them with us, though. Being in here...it’s like things haven’t changed.”

“I didn’t want to mess with their things,” Yuta said, sitting down next to him. “I miss them so much. I miss Taeyong having to drag me out of bed in the morning, and the way Jungwoo refused to go pick up the clothes he left on the floor, and how they’d argue about it. It annoyed me back then, but now I’d give anything to have one more chaotic morning with them.”

“I wonder if Indigo feels the same way,” Winwin said, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes sad. “Does he miss his friends, too? I hadn’t thought about it before now, not until people started accusing us, but he’s losing his friends, too. Even though he’s the one causing their deaths, I think it still hurts him.”

“I hope it does,” Yuta said bitterly. “He deserves to hurt.”

Winwin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. I hope he cries himself to sleep every night.” He sighed, letting his head fall on Yuta’s shoulder. He rarely got close to people like this, and Yuta took it as a sign of trust.

“So, about people thinking we’re Indigo…” Yuta started, knowing there was no point in tiptoeing around the issue any longer. “Do you think the killer will target us? If they think we’re to blame, they’ll try to get rid of us to end the game. I don’t think killing him will end the game, but they all seem to.”

Winwin shuddered. “I hope they don’t.”

“Why did you lie about your color?” Yuta asked, suddenly curious.

Winwin shrugged, moving in closer so he was fully resting on Yuta’s arm. “I was scared. Indigo threatened us, and said not to tell the others our color. When Renjun asked me, I knew it would look suspicious if I refused to answer, but I didn’t want to make Indigo mad, so I made up my own color.”

“That’s what happened with me, too. I didn’t think it would backfire this way,” Yuta said.

“We’ll just have to find a way to regain everyone else’s trust,” Winwin said, and Yuta smiled. It was easier said than done, but he was sure they could do it. It would just take some time.

-

Being so wrapped up in the sudden color reveal, Ten had nearly forgotten that another killer had been chosen the night before.

He parted ways with Jeno and Jisung shortly after breakfast, lulled into a false sense of security since there had been no talk of a killer that morning like there usually was. Their first check in of the day was scheduled for eleven, same as always. Fifteen minutes before, Ten made a quick trip to the restroom.

The door was closed, which was strange, since usually they kept it open during the day. He shrugged it off and went inside, fully unprepared for the sight before him.

The first thing he saw was the blood.

It had dripped onto the floor, stained the facet, filled the sink. There was a knife on the counter, fully cleaned of prints. Ten, for just a moment, was taken back to when he had found Jaehyun, nearly a week ago now. Only this time, it wasn’t his roommate. It was Jeno.

Jaehyun had been stabbed, resulting in the crime scene being much more brutal and bloody, while Jeno had only a single cut, right across his neck. He was resting by the sink, propped up against the wall in a sitting position, head falling back to give whoever walked in a clear view of his slit throat. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he had been killed while in the middle of crying.

Ten’s gaze fell to the floor, and the shoe prints that led to the shower. They were large, too big to belong to the majority of those still alive. If he had to guess, he’d say they belonged to Lucas, but obviously that's impossible, unless someone stole his shoes.

The shower curtain was bloody, as was the facet, and Ten’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Had the killer really showered after killing Jeno? Their hair would be wet, and they’d be caught immediately. Thank goodness this killer was dumb.

The shoes were on the floor, and had definitely belonged to Lucas at one point. So the killer had thought that through, at least.

He ran down to the cafeteria, hating the fact that he had to deliver the bad news for a second time. First Jaehyun, and now Jeno.

Maybe he should stop going to the bathroom.

He burst into the cafeteria, relieved to see everyone else was already there. He’d only have to say it once, then.

“Jeno is dead,” he blurted, already scanning the room, looking for the one with wet hair. He could pin the culprit right here, right now, so they wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow.

“What?” Jisung’s head shot up. “No, he can’t be, he said he was going to use the bathroom and be right down. He’s only been gone for fifteen minutes!”

“None of us would’ve been able to do it so fast, right?” Haechan asked, face pale. “They’d be covered in blood, wouldn’t they?”

“There was blood in the shower,” Ten said, his eyes landing on Xiaojun, whose hair was wet and the collar of his shirt still damp. Everyone else turned as well, and Xiaojun’s eyes went wide.

“I showered twenty minutes ago,” he said defensively, his voice rising in pitch. “I told Hendery. He knew where I was. He can back me on this.”

“Guys,” Winwin said quietly. “There’s an issue. Yuta showered, too. He said he was going to go to the bathroom on the right side of the hall. Please tell me that’s not where Jeno was found.”

Sure enough, Yuta’s hair was wet as well. So the killer had thought this through more than he originally figured, or at least, had gotten very lucky. And then he noticed that Renjun’s hair was wet as well, and his heart sank. “He was,” Ten said, and Yuta flinched.

“Well, I changed to the locker room, since the door to the bathroom was locked. I know how it looks, but-”

“Don’t even try to defend yourself,” Haechan spat. “You have a strong motive, and we all know you’re a liar. Why would you change now?”

“Guys, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Renjun soothed, and Haechan sighed, relenting for the time being. “So our suspects are me, Yuta, and Xiaojun. Yuta said he showered in the locker rooms, and I showered in the left side bathroom. Xiaojun said he showered in the right side bathroom before Jeno went in.”

“All weak alibis,” Haechan pointed out.

“True, but it’s a start. And we can’t really confirm any of them, but we’ve narrowed it down to three already, so I think we’re doing good.” Renjun paused, and Ten raised his hand, bringing the attention back to himself.

“Whoever it was that killed him wore Lucas’s shoes, so we can’t go based off of footprints. The weapon had been cleaned in the sink and left on the countertop.” Ten rattled off any detail that he thought might be important. “I think the carpet outside the bathroom was damp, but I don’t remember properly. It looked like Jeno had been crying. Uh...the wound was on his neck, just a single cut. Very efficient, and with little blood. The killer thought it through.”

The floor seemed to sway beneath him, and he pulled out a chair for himself before he tipped over.

Jisung pulled his knees to his chest, his mouth forming a grim line. “So now there’s only ten of us left, huh? That’s less than half.”

Johnny nodded. “Only six left until we’re free.”

Ten’s stomach did a nervous flip. “Don’t say stuff like that,” he said tightly, fearing his breakfast might come back up if they kept talking about death. He already felt sick.

“I know this isn’t really the time,” Renjun said slowly, as if easing them into what he was about to ask. “But can the rest of you guys please say your colors? It isn’t worth much at this point, but I want to complete Jeno’s list.”

“Who are we missing?” Winwin asked, taking the seat next to Ten. Earlier in the day, Ten might’ve pushed him away, but in the moment he was grateful for the comfort.

“Johnny, Haechan, and Xiaojun,” Renjun answered. “We’re missing some of the others, too, but they can’t really tell us anymore.”

“I’m Orange,” Haechan said.

Johnny twisted his fingers nervously. “I’m Gold.”

Xiaojun hesitated, as if debating whether or not it was safe. Hendery gave him a comforting nudge, and Xiaojun relented. “And I’m Violet.”

Renjun stared the three down, the look in his eyes making Ten uncomfortable, and his focus wasn’t even aimed at him. After a moment Renjun chuckled, shaking his head as if disappointed. “I thought we were past lying,” he said, the laughter in his voice unnerving. “You should have picked a color I didn’t already know.”

Xiaojun grabbed Hendery's hand, as if bracing himself for Renjun to focus his attention on him, but Renjun’s gaze slid past him and landed on Johnny.

“Gold was Mark’s color.”

Johnny met Renjun’s glare, unflinching and equally calm. “Indigo told us not to say our real colors. I’m just obeying the rules.”

“Can we please figure out Jeno’s killer first? I know this is important, but Jeno deserves justice, same as the others,” Jisung said.

“You’re right,” Johnny said. “I can go move him to be with the others, if that’s alright.”

Renjun nodded. “Make sure you put him next to Jaemin,” he said, and Johnny agreed. Renjun sighed, burying his face in his hands after Johnny left. “How can they both be gone?” He asked weakly. “That’s not fair, not fair at all.”

Jisung sniffled, scooting in closer to Renjun to set a comforting hand on his knee. “Jeno and Jaemin should've both made it out,” he said softly.

Renjun sat up, his face streaked with tears. “At least they’re together now,” he whispered, and Ten winced, surprised by how strongly those words stung him.

This game was wrong. All it did was hurt them, tearing friends and lovers apart, with the only hope of being together once more being to join them beyond the grave.

At this point, he felt worse for those that would make it out. They’d have to live without the others, mourning for the rest of their lives.

Ten could hardly believe his own thoughts, but he found himself secretly hoping that the next killer would pick him.

The sooner he got out, the better.

-

“One of my questions is why was Jeno in the bathroom in the first place,” Xiaojun said, gnawing on his lower lip as he scrolled through Yangyang’s phone. “Ten said he had been crying, didn’t he?”

Hendery nodded. “It was probably over Jaemin. They’ve been best friends since forever. I don’t want to assume anything, but I always thought they were more than friends, you know? The way Jeno looked at him...there was something between them, if I had to guess.”

Xiaojun smiled, but his eyes looked sad. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet, almost. It’s such a bittersweet ending, but at least they’re together now, even if it’s not the same.”

There was a knock on their door, which was strange, seeing as the majority of the group rarely went out of their way to talk to them after Hendery had snapped that one time. “I’ll go see who it is,” Hendery offered. He gave Xiaojun a quick smile as he stood up, hoping to lift his spirits, just a bit. Xiaojun smiled back.

There was no one at the door, only a folded piece of paper, laying ominously on the floor.

Going against his better judgement, Hendery picked it up. There were only three words written on the front, a simple yet sinister question that made Hendery’s breath catch.

_Hendery or Xiaojun?_

He closed his fist, crunching the paper into a ball. He knew what it meant, he didn’t need context. The killer wanted him to choose.

He couldn’t let Xiaojun see it. He’d make the choice himself, since he already knew Xiaojun would sacrifice himself, and Hendery couldn’t allow that.

“Who is it?” Xiaojun asked. Hendery stiffened, his mind going blank for a second. The letter had set him on edge, pumping the worst kind of adrenaline through his veins.

“Yuta. He says he wants to talk to me,” Hendery lied, knowing that Xiaojun wouldn’t question him, grateful that he had yet to look up from the phone in his hand. “I’ll be back quickly, I promise.”

“Okay, be careful!” Xiaojun called after him as he closed the door.

Deep in his gut, Hendery had the feeling he’d never see Xiaojun again.

He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, or what he was doing, but apparently whoever had left the note had counted on him just wandering around outside his room, because the next letter was left on the windowsill further down the hall.

_I know what you choose. We both know he looks guilty. Come to the janitor's closet, give yourself up, and I’ll make sure his name is cleared._

Hendery read the note once, then once more, his chest rising and falling abnormally fast as he tried to process what exactly he was about to do.

The janitor’s closet was on the first floor, located by the faculty lounge - which was locked, he had checked a few days earlier - and tucked away from sight for the most part. The killer had chosen the spot well.

Each step felt heavier and heavier, but it paled in comparison to the weight of the knowledge that he was walking to his death.

“It’s to save Xiaojun,” he whispered out loud, trying to convince himself. He could turn and run, but then the killer would frame Xiaojun, he was sure of it. “Better you get out of here than me,” he said, and that was all he needed.

He opened the door to the closet, bracing to see either Yuta or Renjun - it had to be one of the two, surely - but it was empty. So he wasn’t here yet.

Hendery left out a long breath, which did little to relieve the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how afaid he was until just then, his entire body going dumb from the fear.

 _Wait, I should’ve shown the letter to someone else, since it’s proof that the killer couldn’t be Xiaojun, right?_ He bit his lower lip too hard, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. _This will clear his name anyway, right? If I do this, Xiaojun will be safe._

“You came faster than I thought you would,” a soft voice said, and Hendery turned to look the new arrival over. _So it's you._ He swallowed down his fear, staring them head on. He would face his end with dignity.

“It’s not like I had much else to do,” he lied. Of course he had other things to do. He should be up in his room right now, talking with Xiaojun, reassuring him that he’d clear his name. “I assume you’re going to kill me.”

No a question, a statement. One that made the other laugh, as if Hendery had just told a joke.

“I’m saving Xiaojun,” he said. “Don’t make me sound cruel.”

“Don't drag it out longer than you need to,” Hendery hissed, trying to sound forceful, but he sounded more like a frightened child. No, not frightened. He was terrified.

The other smiled, almost sympathetically. “Of course not. You’re still my friend. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“You blackmailed me,” Hendery pointed out, the bitter taste of fear rising up his throat like bile. “You already killed Jeno. Isn’t that enough? You don’t need to kill me, too.”

“If I kill two of you, then the game ends faster. Everyone keeps talking about how the game will end once we kill Indigo, but I know it’s not true. Indigo set everything up beforehand, I know it. We would notice if one of us kept sneaking off to write up something for each trial. Everything is taken care of, and all Indigo has to do is sit back and watch us.”

Hendery felt physically ill, even more so than before. “So the game really won’t end until there are only four of us left? So that means...after me, there’s still going to be five more deaths? What if one of them is Xiaojun?”

His soon-to-be-killer shook his head. “I won’t let it happen. I told you, I’d clear his name. Have some faith in me, at least.”

Hendery noticed then that he didn’t have a knife. “Where’s your weapon?” He asked, and the other grinned.

“I won’t use the same weapon twice. They’ll keep an eye on the knives now, the same way they watched the masks in the costume closet after Jungwoo used one. If you follow a pattern, they catch on. And I don’t plan on being caught.”

“You put too much thought into this,” Hendery said, taking a step back, his heel catching on the empty bucket behind him, the sound of it falling making his hair stand on end. “What’s the point? You’ll get caught eventually.”

“Everyone else has, but I won’t,” he said, his confidence sickening. “I’ve learned from the previous killers’ mistakes. Make sure there are others who will look suspicious at the same time as you, so it’s harder to narrow down, and don’t trail blood, or carry evidence around. And I know to weigh my words, so I won’t blurt out something stupid and give myself away. A part of me is almost glad I was picked, just so I can show the others how it’s done.” He let out a sigh, leaning against the doorframe, far too relaxed for this conversation. “Now isn’t an ideal time to be chosen, not to mention I’d rather not kill to begin with.”

“Why are you talking like this?” Hendery asked, and the other shrugged.

“It’s true. I’m not a monster, course, and ideally I wouldn’t have to kill anyone. I don’t want you to take what I’m saying the wrong way. I just want to prove that I can do it. Maybe this will show the others that I’m a better leader than him. He’ll lead us all to ruin, I just know it.”

Hendery couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want to kill me to prove you’re the better leader?”

“No, I’m killing you so I can end the game faster. And no, I don’t _want_ to. Seeing it from this side, being the one to take your friends life...it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.” He paused, eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m just stalling now. I don’t mean to drag this out.”

Hendery pictured Xiaojun, still sitting on his bed, waiting for Hendery to come back. He might go looking for him if he was gone too long, and he didn’t want Xiaojun to be the one to find him. “I have a request, first,” he said. “Don’t let Xiaojun find me. Please.”

“Of course not. That would be far too cruel.”

“Just...get it over with, okay?” Hendery said. He didn’t come here to sit and chat.

The other nodded, reaching for the lightswitch. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best not to hurt you. And remember, I’ll protect Xiaojun for you as best I can. I couldn’t protect the others, but I can protect him.” And with that, he closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think I'm being too cruel to them, and then I think of the anime this fic is based on lol. Better to be gassed than to be smashed by giant Tetris blocks or turned into butter, am I right?
> 
> Also, did I just kill off my main character? Yes, yes I did.
> 
> I'm sorry Jeno, you're still my favorite! >.<


	11. A Winner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that didn't see, I've started writing a mini companion to The Game, which focuses on the killers picked by Indigo. I've already released Chenle's chapter, so if you're interested you can go check that out!

Doyoung was the unlucky one that stumbled across Hendery’s body.

He had been chatting with Johnny when he first smelt the acid stench of bleach, and without thinking he had gone to find the source of it. Five minutes later, he found himself standing in the doorway to the janitor closet, looking down at the body of his friend.

The killer hadn’t used a knife this time, he immediately noticed. Rather than being stabbed, Hendery had been strangled with a belt.

Johnny, who stood behind Doyoung, let out a sharp gasp, his hand flying up to his mouth to stifle a scream. Even after all this time, none of them had adjusted to the sight of death.

Doyoung looked down at the floor, which was wet, the liquid clinging to his socks. A bottle of bleach lay on its side a few feet away, the cap off and the contents dripping into the puddle. The smell was making Doyoung’s head spin.

“We need to tell Renjun,” Johnny said, setting a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “And all these chemicals in the air will make you high. Come on, let’s close the door.”

Doyoung nodded numbly. They didn’t have time to sit around, since it was almost curfew. “Let’s hurry,” he said. “And someone has to tell Xiaojun.”

-

“Another one,” Renjun muttered, looking down at Hendery’s body. “This is my fault, I didn’t think he’d kill twice, so I wasn’t on guard.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Xiaojun said, his throat tightening. “He went off this afternoon, and I didn’t think to check up on him after he was gone for a while.”

Ten closed the door, hiding Hendery from sight, which Xiaojun was grateful for. He already felt like breaking down, same as he had done with Yangyang, and seeing Hendery’s corpse wasn’t helping at all. He’d be strong, though. He wouldn’t shut down, because if he did, he wouldn’t have anyone to help him come back.

“Did he say who he was going with?” Haechan asked. “Hendery was paranoid, he wouldn’t have gone off alone.”

Xiaojun nodded. “He said he was going out with Yuta.”

Yuta’s head snapped up. “Are you accusing me?”

“No, I’m just saying what he told me.”

“Well it’s a lie, I never went anywhere near your room. I was with Winwin most of the day. I only saw Hendery during check in,” Yuta defended himself.

There was a pause. Xiaojun could already see how this was going to play out. It was his word against Yuta’s, and if he said something stupid, they’d vote him off. He knew he was innocent, but the others didn’t.

Yuta was at a disadvantage, though, since no one trusted him anymore. He’d have to try twice as hard to convince the others he wasn’t guilty. Without proof, they’d have to rely on their words to save themselves.

“So he was strangled…” Winwin said, trying to steer the conversation away from a possible confrontation. “Doyoung, Johnny, did you get a good look at the belt? Do you know who it might belong to?”

“No,” Johnny admitted. “I can go get it, though, and we could see.”

“It probably won’t help,” Yuta said as Johnny went to get the belt. “Anyone could’ve taken anyone else’s belt, so it doesn’t tell us much.”

Johnny returned, holding the belt in one hand, his brows furrowed. “The killer took out the light,” he said. “I went to turn it on, but he had unscrewed the lightbulb.”

Haechan frowned as well. “Why? So we couldn’t see the corpse as well?”

“Beats me. But I still got this, and if I’m right, it belongs to Yuta.” Johnny handed the belt to the stunned boy, who looked it over with wide eyes.

“It is, but I didn’t kill him. You have to believe me, I’m being framed,” he said quickly, and Renjun’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“You’re being framed? Or are you just sloppy?” He asked.

“Guys, I don’t mean to interrupt this, but curfew is in ten minutes,” Winwin said. “We can always continue this tomorrow, but I don’t want to find out what Indigo will do if we break a rule.” He looked at Johnny, almost fearfully. Did he think that Johnny was Indigo because he had lied about being Gold? It seemed hypocritical to Xiaojun, seeing as Winwin had lied about his color, too.

_ And so had Kun,  _ Xiaojun reminded himself. He thought that by learning all of the colors, it would make things easier, but it turns out it only made things more complicated. Now there were at least four people that had lied, and there could be others they had yet to catch. What if Haechan was really Teal, or if Renjun was actually Gray?

They had no way of knowing who was who, especially since they hadn’t got the colors until after half of them had died. What if none of those still living were actually Indigo, and he had already died? What if all those threats about burning the school down were just that: threats?

It would be idiotic to risk it. Best to follow the rules and keep quiet for now.

-

“There was no blood,” Ten started, leading the trial for now. Either Yuta or Renjun would’ve normally, but it seemed wrong since they were both suspects. Moreso Yuta than Renjun, but Renjun offered to step down for the night. “So what was the point of the bleach?”

No one had an answer, same as when they had discussed it at breakfast. The crime scene made no sense, no matter which way Haechan looked at it. The light bulb had been taken, the floor covered in bleach, and Hendery himself had been positioned as if he had been sleeping, curled up on his side with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed.

“It smelt awful,” Doyoung said, as if that were any help. “Was he trying to mask something?”

Johnny clapped his hands together, the sound startling Winwin, who sat to his left. Finally, now that they were down to less than half, they had rearranged the chairs and moved the extras out of the way, so the circle was more compact. It felt so final, an acknowledgment that they were really gone for good.

“Maybe that’s what he meant to do, except opposite. What if the bleach was meant to draw us in? Hendery didn’t hang out with the group much, and the only one that would’ve noticed him missing is Xiaojun. The killer had to draw our attention somehow,” Johnny explained.

Renjun frowned. “But then, why not just leave the body how it is if Xiaojun would’ve found it anyways?”

“Unless,” Haechan started slowly, his words thick in his throat. It felt like dooming his friend, saying what he thought out loud, but he had to. They needed to find the killer. “Unless the killer was Xiaojun, and he didn’t want to seem suspicious by being the one to find him?”

“Wouldn’t finding him make him look less suspicious?” Renjun pointed out. Jisung frowned, but didn’t say anything.

Haechan only shrugged, not convinced.

“We need to look at the evidence for each of our suspects. Let’s start with Jeno’s death, first,” Ten said, turning to Yuta. “You were at the shower at the time of the first murder, correct? In the locker room. That’s why your hair was wet, and why you were missing.”

“Yes,” Yuta said. Haechan had been suspicious of him at first, but Yuta had been nothing but copertive as of this morning, once the shock of being accused of murder had sunk in. “I know it’s a poor alibi, but it’s true.”

“And Xiaojun, you showered before Jeno was found dead,” Ten said. “Is there anyone who can back your story up?”

Xiaojun’s shoulders slumped. “Only Hendery,” he mumbled, sounding aware of how guilty he made himself sound with that statement.

“So you’re saying the only one who would clear your name is the other victim?” Ten said, his voice taking on an almost patronizing tone. “What a coincidence.”

“That’s enough,” Renjun stepped in, and Ten winced at the scolding, but his eyes still glittering coldly as he looked at Xiaojun, already pinning him as guilty.

They had nothing to go by with either deaths. Both crime scenes had been too clean, too thought out. Jeno had been killed at a time where many had been missing, and the timeslot where Hendery was missing was too large to narrow it down enough to actually find the killer. Only Xiaojun had seen him, and he looked guiltier by the second.

“Renjun, where were you?” Ten asked.

“For which death?” Renjun asked. “With Jeno, I was showering in the opposite bathroom, like I said before. With Hendery, well...I’m not sure when he died, but I had been with Haechan and Jisung for most of the afternoon. I was a bit of a wreck after we found Jeno,” he admitted.

“I can back that up,” Jisung said quickly, and Haechan agreed.

“Doyoung and I are both cleared, since we were both together during both deaths,” Johnny said. “Ten wasn’t with anyone for Hendery’s death, but he found Jeno, so that clears him.”

“It could be a trick,” Jisung pointed out, and Johnny shook his head.

“The killer was smart, they wouldn’t have done something like that,” he explained. “It would be too obvious. Ten is innocent in my mind.”

“He’s been really quick to accuse Xiaojun,” Winwin said softly, almost going unheard.

Ten’s eyes widened in shock. “We’re roommates, why would you accuse me?” He asked, and Winwin shrugged.

“Does that have any bearing on anything? We’re roommates, and yet you still accused me of being Indigo, and refused to talk to me for two days straight.” The bitterness in his voice startled Haechan. He had never heard Winwin sound so angry before.

Yuta scoffed, leaning back further in his chair. “Give it up Winwin, they won’t listen,” he said, and Winwin inhaled sharply, eyes so pained it tugged on some forgein string within Haechan’s chest.

“All I did was try to protect myself,” Winwin whispered, fists clenching in his lap. “Same as you. You have no right to treat me like the enemy.”

There was a pause, as if everyone had decided to hold their breath at the same time. Even the air conditioning had gone quiet.

“What does that mean?” Renjun asked. “‘Same as you’?”

Ten’s face fell, all anger gone, now replaced by raw fear.

“It’s nothing,” he said dismissively, even as his voice wavered.

That horrible feeling of dread and betrayal, same as when they had discovered Winwin and Yuta were lying about their colors, sunk into Haechan’s chest

“Ten,” Johnny said darkly, the warning clear in his voice.

Ten blinked back tears. “I’m not Indigo,” he said. “I swear I’m really not.”

“His color isn’t Green,” Winwin said coldly. “That was Jaehyun’s color. He let it slip that first night, and Ten took it as his own after he died. He wouldn’t even tell me his real color. I thought I’d let it slide, since we’re roommates and we  _ trust  _ each other, but I guess that’s all finished now, isn’t it?”

“We need to find Jeno and Hendery’s killer, not focus on whose Indigo,” Ten said, wiping his eyes clear. “We can discuss this later.”

Haechan couldn’t switch back to the previous conversation in his head. He hadn’t seen that much guilt on anyone’s face so far, not even when Kun had been exposed as Yangyang’s killer. Could it really be Ten?

“I’m still convinced it’s Xiaojun,” Doyoung said. “The timing of Hendery’s death is too suspicious. And why else use bleach to draw others in? It makes no sense unless it’s him.”

“I’m siding with Doyoung, it makes the most sense,” Johnny said.

Yuta sighed. “I don’t want to believe it, but...I think you guys are right. And I’m not just saying that because I’m the other suspect. I never went out with Hendery, I swear on my life. Either he went off alone, or he went with Xiaojun, and Hendery never would’ve gone off alone.”

Renjun looked conflicted, but eventually nodded in agreement.

“He probably tried to frame Yuta, since we were all suspicious of him to begin with,” Jisung added. “It makes sense to me. Turn us against the one we already don’t trust.”

“Xiaojun is so kind usually,” Haechan said sadly. “Why would he kill his best friend?”

“Well, if he could link him to the murder…” Renjun trailed off.

“And that explains why Hendery was positioned like he was sleeping. Xiaojun didn’t want to look at his friend’s corpse,” Yuta said.

Xiaojun had yet to defend himself, too stunned to speak. Haechan would’ve pitied him, only he didn’t. He felt no more compassion for the killers, not after Mark had been found to be guilty. He lost all sympathy then, watching his best friend disappear through those ominous doors.

“I loved him like a brother,” Xiaojun whispered, shaking his head. “I would rather kill myself than him.” A single tear fell down Xiaojun’s cheek, followed by a second, and then a third.

“Let’s vote, and get this over with,” Johnny said stiffly, looking on the verge of tears himself. “We all agree on Xiaojun, right?”

“I don’t see who else it could be,” Winwin said.

Haechan pulled out his phone, mentally preparing himself to vote, when Renjun burst out laughing.

It rose, louder and louder, until the shrill noise drowned out everything else. Had he snapped, having faced too much tragedy to handle it any longer?

Tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping down his chin as hysterical giggles poured from his open mouth. Haechan was just about to get up and go over to him to ask if he was alright, when Renjun threw his head back, his laughter changing into a broken sob.

“Was it really that easy?” He managed to gasp out between frantic gasps for air. “Was that all he wanted? Oh, if only I had the heart to let him die.” He pointed to Xiaojun, his shoulders shaking due to either his laughing or his crying; it was impossible to tell at this point. Nothing he was saying made any sense.

No one spoke, all equally confused as Haechan.

“You didn’t even fight back,” he spat, as if disgusted. “You're just going to roll over and take my punishment for me? That’s just sad.” Renjun inhaled deeply, his eyes red and puffy, making him look like a madman as he choked on his own breath. “I don’t know which one of you is Indigo. I couldn’t figure it out, not even after getting that stupid list. Who knows? He may be dead already, and good riddance to him. If you are still here, I want to let you know I won’t play along with your stupid game. You want one of us to win, but I won’t let that happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Doyoung squeaked out, terrified.

“I killed Jeno, and Hendery,” he confessed, no shame in his voice. Instead, there was only malice - not aimed at any of them, rather at the one who had imprisoned them. “I could’ve gotten away with it easily, but why do what Indigo wants? I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of a winner.”

“Does Indigo want us to win?” Yuta asked. “It seems like he just wants to kill us.”

Renjun snorted. “As if. I thought you were supposed to be my rival? You aren’t nearly as quick. And this is why I think our group needs a new leader. You know how Indigo is always talking about us ‘gaining new skills’ whenever he contacts us? He wants one of us to beat his twisted game. What else could he mean?”

“Wait, you killed Jeno?” Haechan asked, finally finding his voice. “But why?”

“He’s with Jaemin now,” Renjun said, smiling at Haechan, same as he always did. Only it wasn’t the same, because he was a killer. “He’d thank me. I found him in the bathroom, crying. Poor thing, he could hardly bear losing Jaemin.” Renjun had settled down now, no longer crying. “He was head over heels for him. He’s happier this way, I know it. And now I’ll join them. It’ll be just like before, the three of us together once more. Go on, vote for me. I miss them so bad it hurts.”

“Wait,” Haechan found himself saying. “What...what about me?”

Renjun gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll miss you just as much. But please, promise me you won’t try to join us. You have more to live for.”

Voting had never been so hard. Haechan had to do what was right, even if that meant sentencing his closest remaining friend to death, so he did.

Once they had finished voting, the screen lit up.

_ So you guys think it’s Renjun, huh? Whoa, you guys are right again! And just think, you’re getting smarter every day! Is it getting easier, or harder? _

Haechan closed his eyes. This seemed unreal, even now.

“Goodbye, guys,” Renjun said, sounding too calm to be walking to his death. “I’ll see some of you later. Don’t try to win, and don’t let Indigo get the upper hand. Remember, Haechan, don’t give up. Escape for me, okay?”

And with that, he left, same as Chenle, and Kun, and Jungwoo.

He’d die, leaving Haechan alone.

Same as Mark.

-

After the trial, Ten didn’t speak. He was quiet as they watched Renjun disappear beyond the doors, and when they went back to their rooms for the night.

Winwin felt a tiny bit guilty for accusing him in front of everyone, but to be fair, Ten had started it, and he  _ did  _ look suspicious. Winwin couldn’t just turn a blind eye, not when it was such a good opportunity.

“I’m not Indigo,” Ten said, breaking his vow of silence once the lights were off and they were both in bed. Jaehyun’s bed being empty no longer seemed unusual, and that seemed even worse than when it had felt wrong.

Winwin sighed, rolling onto his back. Ten sounded so scared, his voice small as he waited for the boy above him to talk. “I know,” Winwin said. Ten had been lying to protect himself from Indigo’s wrath, same as everyone else.

“I don’t believe you’re Indigo, either. If anything, I think it’s Yuta,” he continued. “He seems to know too much, same as Renjun, but Renjun’s color was actually on the list. Yuta’s wasn’t. It seems like more than a coincidence, right?”

Winwin knew better, but he was too tired to debate tonight.

“We’ll have to talk to the group tomorrow, and clear our names,” he said.

Ten hummed in agreement, then grunted as he rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand. “Wait, what time is it?”

Winwin turned on his phone before Ten had the chance to answer his own question. “Ten past nine already,” he said, scrolling through his notifications. Nothing this time. “I’m clear. How about you?”

“I’ve got nothing,” he answered. “Well, I guess we can relax for now. Goodnight, Winwin.”

Winwin pulled his blankets up around himself and buried his face in his pillow so he could finally let out the tears that had been building up behind his eyes all day. He cried himself to sleep, just like that, same as he had every night since Jaehyun died.

He slept so hard, he didn’t even hear the door open just before midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not @ me killing all of my main characters
> 
> Believe it or not, I tear up whenever I kill one of the Dreamies. Like, every single time. I think it's obvious which subunit is my favorite, don't you?
> 
> Shout out to @sunwardhoseok, who figured out not only the killer, but also their motivation. I actually got goosebumps reading your comment, nice job!


	12. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first time I've ever written from Jisung's perspective...how could I forget him? I know I tried not to focus on the Dreamies _too_ much, since I didn't want to show favoritism, but I guess that backfired. And then I jumped between POVs for this chapter, since I wanted to show what everyone was doing while they were all apart, so in the end he didn't even get that much page time :(
> 
> I'm so sorry, Jisung!
> 
> (EDIT: I added a paragraph towards the way end of the chapter, which will hopefully give you a little more to go off of with the killer's motive, since there aren't many _physical_ clues in this chapter. I also added a short scene with two other characters, so you can see what they're up to as well.)

“Has anyone seen Doyoung?”

“Huh?” Jisung’s head shot up, a jab of panic in his chest.

Haechan set a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Relax, I’m not saying...you know what. It’s just that I ran into Johnny this morning, and Doyoung wasn’t with him, and he still hasn’t come down to breakfast. He nevers misses check in.”

Jisung barely managed to swallow down the mouthful of cereal in his mouth. “We don’t really have an official check in time anymore, do we? We don’t even have a leader, now that Renjun-” he stopped himself, but Haechan still winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. You’re right, we need a new leader,” Haechan agreed. “Renjun said he didn’t approve of Yuta, and I’m going to stand by him, even if he isn’t here. The only issue is that I don’t know who else we can turn to.” 

“Do we even need a leader at this point?” Xiaojun asked. After losing Hendery, he now stuck with the rest of the group, claiming to be too scared to be alone. “We’re getting so close to the end. There’s only eight of us left, and after this trial, we’ll be down to six at the most. It’s almost over. We should focus on staying alive, not fighting over who gets to be incharge.”

Jisung hadn’t really thought of it like that, but he was right. It was almost over.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Haechan said. “Just think, there’s only one round left after this. I wonder...if Indigo ends up dying, or if he’s already dead, how will we get out? Who will unlock the doors?”

“Unless he has a system in place to automatically unlock the doors? The texts are automatic, and so is the time when the projector turns on. I think he has it set up so the game can continue even after he’s dead,” Jisung said. “At least, that’s what Renjun believed, and he knows more about this whole thing than me.”

There was a pause, and Jisung checked the clock. It was almost eight thirty, and Johnny, Doyoung, Ten, Winwin, and Yuta were still not there.

“I’ll go check on the others,” Jisung said decidedly, setting his spoon down.

“Let’s all go, just to be safe,” Haechan said. “And to be emotional support when we find...yeah.” Xiaojun nodded grimly, and Jisung copied him.

Jisung made a beeline for Johnny and Doyoung’s room, seeing as it was the closest. He knocked, but no one answered.

“I’ll go check the bathroom, that’s where I saw Johnny last,” Haechan said.

“Why don’t you go check on Yuta?” Jisung said, and Xiaojun did as he asked, leaving Jisung alone.

He paused when he set his hand on the doorknob, already knowing what he’d find. His palms were sweaty as he fumbled to open the door.

The first one he saw was Ten, laying in the middle of bed with his sheets kicked off and his eyes wide, frantic, now frozen like that permanently. His stomach was full of stab wounds, like Jaehyun and Lucas, only this time, it wasn’t Chenle’s doing.

Jisung covered his mouth to stifle a scream, tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at the gruesome scene before him.

Winwin was on the top bunk, laying in a similar way to Ten, only his eyes were half closed, and his lips curled back in an angry snarl of sorts, as if he were _mad_ about being killed rather than terrified, as Ten had been.

“Haechan!” He shouted. “Xiaojun!”

He didn’t have to wait long until the others had arrived, each looking over the matching corpses in turn. Yuta was the last one to show up, still hesitant to partake after being accused so intensely. He knelt by Ten’s bed, hands bunching up in the sheets as he examined the stab wounds that littered his stomach.

“It must’ve happened in the middle of the night,” he said hoarsely, pointedly not looking at Winwin as he spoke. “Did anyone hear someone get up?”

“Doyoung did,” Johnny said. “I don’t remember when it was, I just remember hearing the door opening and seeing him come into the room.”

“I had to use the bathroom,” Doyoung explained, looking a tiny bit panicked, but not enough to be considered suspicious. Anyone would be defensive when faced with a murder accusation, and those who had something to hide usually reacted stronger.

Yuta nodded, his gaze straying to the top bunk, his expression pained. “Anyone else?” He asked, the wobble in his voice giving away how close he was to breaking down.

“It could’ve been someone with their own room. That makes the most sense to me,” Haechan said.

“That makes you look guilty, too,” Jisung pointed out, and Haechan shrugged.

“I know, but I don’t care. I want to find the killer, it doesn’t matter if I make myself look bad in the process,” Haechan said decidedly.

 _Smart,_ Jisung thought. _Now he looks less guilty._

“So that would make our main suspects Haechan, Xiaojun, Jisung, and myself,” Yuta said. “Though Johnny isn’t off the hook, and neither is Doyoung.”

They searched the room, but the only thing out of place was the knife they found hidden under the opposite bed, where Jaehyun used to sleep. The killer hadn’t left any clues behind, or at least none that they could find.

“So we’ve found nothing, and all we’ve managed to figure out is that it’s probably not Johnny,” Xiaojun said. He let out a sigh, turning to leave. “I’m going back to my room.”

“Wait, we need to-” Yuta started, but Xiaojun cut him off.

“We don’t have a leader anymore,” he said coolly, and left without another word.

-

“Now what?” Johnny asked, letting the cool water lap at his feet. Doyoung sat next to him, staring down at the pool below, gnawing at his bottom lip.

He shrugged helplessly at Johnny’s question. “I don’t know. Everything seemed to fall apart this morning.”

It was true, Johnny thought. Xiaojun had holed himself in his room, and Yuta had ended up carrying the two bodies to their makeshift gravesite, refusing help. He had a strange, wild look in his eye, a sort of desperation Johnny had never seen before.

Haechan and Jisung retreated to the library shortly after, the two of them still shaken up from the last set of murders. At times like this, Johnny felt like Doyoung was the only one he could turn to, the only other level headed one in the group.

“Do you think I’m Indigo?” Johnny asked.

Doyoung looked at him for a minute, considering his question, then shook his head. “No, of course not. Honestly, I thought it might be Haechan at first, but his anger towards Indigo feels too real, so now I think it might be Ten. Or, it might have been him.”

“I lied about my color,” Johnny went on, not really sure why he was saying this. Maybe he just wanted confirmation that his only remaining ally in this game trusted him. “And a lot of other people think I’m guilty. Why don’t you?”

“Because I’ve seen how you mourn our friends' deaths,” Doyoung said. “How you get upset once you’re behind closed doors. You act calm in front of everyone else, but then you beat up your pillow as soon as you’re alone.” Doyoung let out a snort at that. “You sure do grieve differently, I’ll give you that. You don’t cry, really, you get mad.”

“I _am_ mad,” Johnny said. “I feel like I should be protecting you guys from this, somehow, and yet I know it’s impossible.”

Doyoung hummed, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sure you’ve done your best,” he said after a minute. “But Indigo is too smart for us. He trapped us, took away all of our communication from the outside world, and now he’s turned us against each other. Looking back, we probably could’ve teamed up and gotten out. He said he’d kill us if we tried, but how could he kill us all?”

Johnny sighed, the sound bouncing off the high ceiling. “Too late for that now. The others wouldn't even listen if we brought it up.”

“That's probably true. At this point, all we can do is try to make it to the end. There’s six of us now, which means there are two deaths left. The next execution, and one last murder.”

Johnny’s stomach dropped at that. “The last killer will get away, won’t he?” He asked, and Doyoung shuddered, face contorted in disgust.

“I guess so.”

Johnny didn’t want any more of his friends to die, but he also didn’t want a murderer to walk free like that. “We’ll have to turn him over to the cops once we’re free.”

“But is that enough of a punishment for a killer?” Doyoung blurted. “I mean, an eye for an eye, right? A life for a life. That’s how the game has worked so far.”

Johnny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re saying what, exactly?”

Doyoung held his hands up defensively, even as his eyes darkened. “We can’t let a killer go free, you know that. That’s not how the game works.”

“Stop it, right now,” Johnny snapped. “Just...no, we can’t think like that.”

“Think like what?” Doyoung asked, almost in a challenge.

Johnny bit back a frustrated shout. “Like Indigo.”

“You take that back,” Doyoung hissed, raising a fist in warning. Johnny had never seen him so mad. It was as if he suddenly snapped. He didn’t want to anger Doyoung, his only ally, so he switched tactics, lowering his tone so he wouldn’t provoke him any more than he already had.

“I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean it.” Johnny didn’t know what else to say, and Doyoung had gone silent, his hands folded in his lap. He looked so small, so lost.

After a minute, his voice shaking, he spoke up. “Johnny...please tell me your color. Your real color. Please. I don’t believe you’re Indigo, but I need to be sure.”

“Don’t tell anyone else, I can’t have Indigo finding out that I said,” Johnny said, dead serious. Some of the others didn’t seem to care what Indigo thought, but Johnny did. “I’m Bronze. I picked the color Gold because it was similar to mine, so I wouldn’t forget it.”

“Mark was Gold, right? So that would make our room Gold, Silver, and Bronze. Do you think it was a coincidence, or did Indigo plan that?” Doyoung asked with a weak laugh. “If that’s even your real color, I mean. If it’s not, that’s okay. I don’t blame you for being cautious.”

Johnny closed his eyes, focusing on the water lapping at his toes. “We should head back soon. I want to be part of the investigation, even if I’m not much use.”

“Yuta is still cleaning up, I think,” Doyoung said. “It’s kind of sad, seeing him so dedicated. He practically idolized Winwin, and now he’s having to throw away his bloody sheets. That’s just sick, isn’t it? We shouldn’t have to carry our loved ones’ corpses.”

“This whole thing is sick,” Johnny murmured.

He pushed himself up after a few more moments, knowing that he’d get nothing done while sitting around. “Come on, let’s go back,” he said, and Doyoung nodded.

He couldn’t let Yuta do everything. They were down to six, and they all had to pull their own weight.

Even if that meant doing something the others might consider unethical.

-

“I have to make it out,” Xiaojun whispered out loud, his voice sounding too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “I have to, Hendery. I don’t want to die. I’m so scared, please don’t let me die.” He knelt down next to Yangyang and Hendery’s covered body, his breath coming out in choked heaves.

The game was ending, and the winners would be decided soon. He had to be one of them. Renjun had said he _wanted_ to join his dead friends, but Xiaojun didn’t. He’d rather spend the rest of his life alone than die here.

“One more kill after this, right?” He asked, but Hendery gave no response, because he couldn’t. He was _gone_. “What if it’s me? It’s going to be, isn’t it? I’m going to be buried with you, and all of our memories will die with me.”

Avoiding the others in favor of being alone for so long would only make him look more suspicious, but Xiaojun didn’t want to be with the others. They had thought Hendery was guilty, hadn’t they? But how could he be when he had tried his best to solve the murders alongside them, never one betraying them like the others had?

“Is Yangyang with you? I don’t know much about death, but are you together, wherever you are? If I died, would I join you? Because I don’t think I want that, not yet. I’m too scared.”

There were five others still alive, and yet here he was, talking to a corpse. But they would never know him the way Hendery and Yangyang did. Even in death, he’d rather be with them.

“Did it hurt?” He asked softly, sitting back on his heels. They had put Hendery next to Yangyang, per Xiaojun’s request, and he didn’t dare move that blanket. He didn’t know what he’d find, but he knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. “I’m sure Yangyang’s death was peaceful, but was yours? And why did you go in that stupid closet anyways? Why did you trust him?”

He wanted to yell, to demand Hendery to tell him why he had gone off, but now he couldn’t, and all that pent up anger was now centered on himself.

 _Why? Why didn’t you follow him? Were pictures of Yangyang more important to you than your living friend?_ If he could turn back time, he’d change things, but now it was too late. _You should’ve been the one to walk into that closet. Hendery could’ve made it out. He’d have found Indigo, he’d have saved us, not cried in your room like you did._

He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to himself. If it had come down to it, it was probably best that it was Hendery, because he was brave. He probably faced his end heroically, whereas Xiaojun would’ve cried the entire time.

“This is Kun’s fault, isn’t it? The more I think about it, the more I think it has to be him. He pulled the strings up until his death, and he stole Yangyang’s color. It has to be him,” he said quietly, though that thought hurt him more than he wanted to admit. He wanted to hate Kun for what he did, but he still looked up to Kun despite that, and having him be the one that did all this...

Surely he couldn’t be Indigo. Killing Yangyang, Xiaojun could forgive, but being the one behind everything? He didn’t have a choice with Yangyang, but if he _was_ Indigo, that meant he did, that he had chosen for them to die.

And that was unforgivable, close friend or no.

-

This was the worst place to be, Haechan decided, as he sat next to Jisung, the two of them silent as they stared at the empty chairs across from them. The library had enough seats for four people to sit comfortably, but when their little group decided to hang out, they learned they could squish Jisung and Chenle on a chair together, and that Jeno didn’t mind having Jaemin sit in his lap. That left either Mark, Renjun, or himself to negotiate who had to sit on the floor for that day. They always worked it out.

But now they had more chairs than they needed, and while he loved Jisung dearly, he didn’t make the best company, especially not today.

He had closed in on himself, refusing to speak, and Haechan had a pretty good feeling why.

“It’s because of the murders, isn’t it?” He asked, and Jisung jumped, as if startled by the sudden noise. Haechan’s heart wrenched in his chest at the look in the boy’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” He whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

“You’re so quiet today. What happened to Ten and Winwin...it’s like what happened to Chenle. It’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Jisung nodded, hugging his knees to his chest. “It hurts,” he admitted. “But it’s a reminder. Recently, I feel almost like I’ve been forgetting him. I used to think about him all the time, but now I don't.”

“Oh Jisung,” Haechan said symathically. “That’s normal. You’ll never really forget about him, but moving on is part of the grieving process, it’s healthy. You can’t stay stuck in the past forever, or you’ll be miserable.”

It was hypocritical to say on his part, seeing how he stewed in his own rage, his urge to find Indigo and strangle him to death growing with each passing day, but he had to comfort Jisung. He was all he had left.

“I guess,” Jisung said. “I just don’t want his memory to fade. He was my best friend, and I had the chance to save him. He deserves to be remembered. I owe him that much.”

“You couldn’t have saved him,” Haechan said. Chenle would never have let Jisung sacrifice himself like that, no matter how hard Jisung begged. He knew that for a fact. “And I know you won’t forget him. You’re a good friend, Jisung.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You’re a good friend, too.”

“We have to look out for each other,” Haechan said. “It’s just us now.”

“You’re right, it is. You know, I don’t think I could make it if it were just me,” Jisung admitted with a small, almost laugh. “So I’m glad we still have each other.”

“Yeah, me too.”

-

The investigations didn’t matter anymore. The murders were just child's play, a thing of the past. Yuta knew there were more important things to worry about now that they were getting so close to the end.

The others would start looking to pin the blame on someone, and Yuta knew who their first target would be.

And he couldn’t have that happen, not now.

He surveyed the expanse of Winwin and Ten’s room, which now looked like a disaster zone, stripped bare and thoroughly searched. Drawers had been emptied, mattresses flipped over, and every piece of paper read three times over.

He didn’t want to disrespect the dead in such a way, but his own safety depended on it. “Sorry, Sicheng,” he said softly. “I wish it didn’t have to be you.”

Pinning everything on someone already alive could be disastrous, and would go south without a doubt, so his next best choice would be to frame someone who couldn’t defend themselves, and both Ten and Winwin had looked guilty even before their death. Really, there were no other options.

Finding fake evidence was harder than he thought, but Yuta could manage it.

His life depended on it, after all.

Of course, he hadn’t forgotten the murder, and he wouldn’t let Winwin’s killer go free. He hadn’t found anything that pointed at one person specifically, but the more he looked the more likely it seemed that the killer had been bunking alone.

He couldn’t know for sure, since he had never been in that position, but he guessed that if a killer had a roommate they’d have been in more of a hurry to finish and get back without being noticed. This killer had taken their time, from what he could tell.

The knife had been cleaned in the bathroom sink - he had checked, and found a bloody handprint on the countertop - and then returned to the room, as if the killer had wanted them to find it. The handprint itself didn’t tell him much, since it was only a partial print, but he could tell it was too big to belong to Haechan, so that helped narrow it down a bit.

He knew _he_ hadn’t killed them, so that left Xiaojun and Jisung. Doyoung _could’ve_ done it, since he had left his room in the middle of the night, but Yuta was doubtful. It didn’t seem as likely in his mind.

Going after two at once seemed risky, and Yuta couldn’t figure out why the killer would do that, but then again, he had yet to be chosen, so how would he know what went on inside their heads? Maybe it did make sense, and he wasn’t looking at it the right way.

Something about this kill, though...Yuta couldn't figure out why, but it didn't seem random. It was almost as if Winwin and Ten had been targeted specifically. The killer could have easily targeted someone in a lone room, and yet he went after two people, and rather than simply kill them, he had stabbed them repeatedly, far more times than necessary. Was he taking out his anger on them? Was it revenge of some kind? There was a motive here, there had to be. None of the other kills had seemed so direct, so _personal_.

Yuta groaned, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. This was the last trial, and Yuta wouldn’t let the game end with his failure. He’d find this last killer, too, and then make sure he got out.

He had made it this far, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you guys in the comments begging me not to kill Winwin lol, sorry y'all I had it planned out beforehand, there's nothing I can do now.
> 
> Did you catch my joke with Xiaojun? 'If he could _Turn Back Time_ ,' get it?
> 
> Oh gosh my sense of humor just so bad, I'm sorry guys.


	13. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I know it's been 3 months, and I'm really sorry about that, but I had to figure out a way of changing a few things about the ending without change previous chapters and that took a while.
> 
> The first scene in this chapter is a dream, so if it seems a bit weird, well that's good, it's what I'm going for. Obviously, it's not what the actual murder looked like, but it gives you an idea of how the killer is feeling, and also a glimpse into his motive if you squint a bit.

_Silent steps in the hallway, socks muffling the noise. Soft socks on his feet, hard knife in his hand. Thud. Thud. Thud. His heart beat like a drum - steady, unlike his shaking hands._

_The door was open, and the hallway disappeared. He had been talking to someone earlier, but now he was alone in room R4. Jaehyun laid in his bed, already gone, his chest covered in stab wounds._

_He held the knife up, watching as Ten snored quietly. The sheets were white, and when he brought the blade down, they turned red. He closed his eyes, not wanting to watch Ten cry. The knife turned red. His hands turned red. The floor turned red._

_Winwin fought back, clawing at his arms and turning them red as well. He held the knife tight, not letting Winwin take it from him. He had to finish it._

_When he finally stepped back, the entire room had gone bright. It was morning already. They’d see what he had done._

_The door opened behind him, and he heard a scream. It sounded like someone he knew, someone he had lost._

_“Good job,” another voice said, hard to hear over the screaming. “Now run. Run before Indigo finds out.”_

_So he turned and ran, through the hall and down the stairs, until the screaming faded away and he was alone._

_He looked down, and saw his feet were red._

_Behind him, a trail of red footsteps followed him. He couldn’t wipe the red off. Wherever he went, he’d leave a trial._

_Indigo would find him._

-

Yuta hardly slept at all. How could he when there was so much on his mind? Without Renjun, solving the murder rested entirely on his shoulders. He was the group's only hope at this point, despite what they seemed to think. And not only that, but he was about to taint an innocent person's image when he should be mourning him. He felt sick just thinking about it.

The thing is, he knew he looked guilty in the other’s eyes, seeing as they didn’t know his color, and he hadn’t done a good job of defending himself. But then again, no one knew Johnny’s color, either. And the others could just as easily be lying. Why did they all suspect him, then? Was it because he took on the role of leader? It would be much smarter for Indigo to lay low, to stick to the background and not draw too much attention to himself.

If he could go back, he’d focus on something other than becoming leader. He should have tried to find out which one of them was behind all this. It was one of the quiet ones, surely. Indigo was too smart to stand out.

“Doyoung?” He asked out loud, his voice sounding strange in the silent night. “Winwin? Xiaojun? Jeno?”

_What if Indigo is already dead? We’d be able to escape then, wouldn’t we? Though if he isn’t...it’s not worth the risk to test it, is it?_

Yuta scowled up at nothing, his fists clenching under the sheets. Indigo had all of them wrapped around his finger, and Yuta hated it. He hated Indigo so much. There was no way he was really one of their friends, he just couldn’t be.

“If it weren’t for you, Winwin would still be here,” he muttered bitterly. “Ten, too.”

He missed everyone, but he felt like he had grown especially close with Winwin while they were both under suspicion for being Indigo. He had only one ally, and now he was alone. _No._ He didn’t have time to pity himself. He had to figure out this killer, since none of the others seemed to be mentally stable enough to do so. Doyoung was a mess, Jisung could hardly bear to look at the crime scene, and Xiaojun had spent the whole day in their makeshift graveyard doing who knows what.

Yuta closed his eyes, willing sleep to find him quickly. He’d had dark circles under his eyes most mornings since they found the list of colors, and whenever he did manage to sleep, he was plagued with nightmares of himself watching the school burn down, his friends still locked inside.

-

“What should we have for breakfast?” Jisung asked, hands stuffed in his pockets. He was displaying the same sort of closed off, fidgety behavior as he had after the first day, when Chenle had been guilty. _This past murder must have brought back bad memeories,_ Haechan thought to himself.

“I’m okay with anything,” Haechan said. “You can pick.”

“Kimchi with fried eggs,” Jisung answered without hesitation. Chenle’s favorite, Haechan recalled with a sad smile.

He wouldn’t try to dictate how Jisung mourned, so he agreed. They turned the corner, both unsure what else to say, only to run into Johnny.

“Hey,” Haechan greeted him, ready to invite him to join them, when Johnny grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

“Hey!” Jisung protested, grabbing at Johnny’s arm, but he didn’t budge. He glared down at Haechan with fiery eyes, his expression so unlike himself that Haechan barely recognized him. “What the heck?” Jisung snapped, his voice wavering between angry and afraid.

Johnny ignored him. “What’s the password to Renjun’s phone?” He asked, voice cold.

Haechan laughed, not out of mirth but of fear. “Why do you want to know?”

“He’s Indigo, isn’t he?” Johnny growled. “I need to make sure. Give me his phone, and tell me his password.”

Haechan suddenly had a bad feeling, icy cold, deep within his gut. “I don’t know it,” he lied, and Johnny’s eyes narrowed, scanning his face intently. Clearly he didn’t like what he saw on Haechan’s face, since his hand tightened around his neck.

“I know you know what it is, don’t play dumb with me! He’s dead already so there’s no need to protect him!”

The ice in his belly turned to blazing heat at that. Haechan swung his fist up, catching Johnny’s jaw, hard enough to send the taller boy stumbling backwards. Haechan ducked out of his hold, rubbing at the sore spots where Johnny’s fingers had been once he was a safe distance away.

“Psycho,” he spat, shooting Johnny a disgust glare. “You could’ve just asked me what it was.”

“Are you alright?” Jisung asked, his eyes darting between Haechan and Johnny, who was now leaning against the wall, his cheeks flushed with shame and adrenaline. There was a light in Jisung’s eyes, Haechan noticed. A sick sort of excitement. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m fine,” Haechan said, finding it hard to look at Jisung. What was wrong with his expression? Haechan didn’t like it one bit.

Johnny stood up to his full height, eyeing Jisung with uncertainty. So he saw it, too.

“You know there’s no need to protect him now,” Johnny said eventually, turning his attention back to Haechan. “Just tell me his password and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Why do you need it?” He asked. Johnny made a face at that, as if Haechan had just asked the most ridiculous question he had ever heard.

Jisung grabbed Haechan’s wrist, pulling him closer. Haechan felt himself relax at the familiar touch. Even if Jisung _was_ acting a little strange, he still trusted him far more than he trusted Johnny, especially after what had just happened. Haechan held Johnny’s gaze, feeling a bit stronger with his friend at his side.

“I asked you a question,” he said firmly. “And I think I deserve an answer after you grabbed me by my throat like that.”

“I already told you,” Johnny said, seeming unaffected by Haechan’s glare. “I believe he’s Indigo, and I want proof. We don’t have time to sit around making guesses anymore. There’s six of us left, meaning the game is almost over. Whoever killed Ten and Winwin will die” - Jisung’s grip on Haechan’s wrist tightened - “and then there’s one kill left. I need to know if it’s Renjun or not, because if it isn’t, and Indigo is still alive, then he needs to be the one that’s killed next.”

Jisung made a pained sound in the back of his throat, like that of a wounded animal. “Don’t talk like that,” he said. “We can’t just _pick_ someone and kill them. You can’t plan that. Indigo should be arrested-”

“An eye for an eye,” Johnny answered coldly. “A life for a life. That’s how the game has worked so far. Indigo likes his rules, doesn’t he?”

“And what if Indigo is already dead?” Haechan spoke up. “Then what? Who will we pick to kill?”

Johnny hesitated, and Haechan’s stomach dropped, though he wasn’t sure why.

“We’ll think about it once we get there,” Johnny eventually said.

Haechan’s heart was racing, fast and angry in his chest. “That’s happening _tomorrow_. We don’t have time to wait! You really didn’t think this out at all, did you? If we can’t find Indigo, then another one of us is going to die!”

Jisung let out a sob, clutching onto Haechan for dear life. “Stop it,” he begged. “No more death, please. Just stop!”

“We can’t just stop,” Haechan snapped. “We don’t have that choice. There are still two more deaths we have to face, whether you like it or not! I wish we could be done but it’s not over yet. And,” he said, turning his attention towards Johnny. “If you think I’m going to give you Renjun’s password after that stunt you pulled, you’re crazy.”

Johnny’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. He seemed smaller now, less intimidating.

“Let’s go have breakfast,” Haechan said, coaxing Jisung forward. The boy had gone deathly pale, his fingers shaking as they loosened around the sleeve of Haechan’s sweatshirt.

“Okay,” he said quietly, glancing over at Johnny with wide, somewhat hopeful eyes.

Haechan led him away, trying to calm his own erratic breathing. He never thought Johnny would physically attack him like that - granted he didn’t really hurt him, he had only startled him a bit - and it had shaken him to the core. This game was changing all of them, and not for the better.

He was almost glad Mark had died when he did. The longer they were stuck here, the worse they got, and it was better that he had died innocent. Haechan envied him, in a way. Though he had yet to attack someone like Johnny had, he frequently exploded into fits of anger, and couldn’t remember a time before this whole thing started that he had done that.

“Renjun wasn’t Indigo,” Jisung said. “Right? You would’ve known, and you would’ve told us.”

Haechan wished it were that simple, but it wasn’t, because of course it wasn’t. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I don’t think he was, but I have no proof. I didn’t even think to check his phone, but Indigo isn’t dumb enough to have his actual color in his texts, right?”

Jisung shrugged. “I have no idea how Indigo thinks.”

“Let’s check after breakfast, just to be safe,” Haechan said. He still had Renjun’s phone in his room, along with Jeno and Jaemin’s. Chenle must’ve had his on him when he was executed, because he hadn’t been able to find it. Even though he didn’t know most of their password, it still comforted him to know he had something of theirs. Sometimes at night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d go through their old conversations in their group chat, even though it didn’t cheer him up much.

“Good idea,” Jisung said. “Just to be safe.”

Maybe it was just because they had been so close, but Haechan didn’t think Renjun was Indigo. Still, he needed to be sure. He needed to know his friend was innocent.

-

“I wonder if they’ll come looking for me,” Xiaojun said out loud. He hadn’t been able to pull himself away from his friends, so he ended up spending the night here, foul smell and all. Now he was tired and sore, but he still couldn’t leave.

_Have they figured out the killer yet? If so, they haven’t told me yet. Do they even know where I am?_

He was sure Yuta did, at least, but no one had come to check on him yet. Maybe they thought he was in his room. It didn’t really matter, because he didn’t really help with investigations. He had solved a murder before, but that was an accident, and during the middle of a trial.

“I bet Yuta will figure it out just fine on his own,” he said. “Hey, Yangyang...do you think it’s Haechan or Jisung? I think it’s one of them. Maybe Doyoung. Not me, of course, and not Yuta. I don’t know about Johnny.”

Of course he didn’t get a response, but the more he said out loud, the easier it was to process.

“I don’t have all the information yet, so I can’t say for sure. Still, Doyoung seemed a bit off. A bit angry. Maybe it’s him?”

He stood up, stretching out his stiff legs. He hadn’t moved much since yesterday, and he was starting to get restless. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. He didn’t know the time, but it had to be around noon, surely.

He stopped at the door, something holding him back as he tried to work up the will to leave. There was no need to stay here, and he knew that, but he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to admit to himself that they were gone.

But he also didn’t want to look guilty by hiding, so with one last look over his shoulder, he mustered the will to open the door, despite everything inside of him screaming to turn around.

-

Yuta knew there were no more clues to find. He had searched their room five times over already, and yet he found himself in their room once more, staring at the empty mattresses, stained rusty brown with dried blood.

There was no way he had missed anything. The killer hadn’t left much to find, other than that handprint and the cleaned-off knife. The manner they were killed in wasn’t all that strange, either. The knives were easy to get a hold of - Yuta had wanted to hide them somewhere, but after being under such heavy suspicion from the others, doing so would’ve been a death wish - and anyone could’ve easily taken one in the middle of the night.

“There has to be something I’m missing,” he said out loud. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was starting to get desperate, but deep down he knew it was true. Letting down the group was the last thing he wanted to do. But what choice did he have? There were no clues, no hints, nothing. All he had managed to do was narrow it down to two people, but he couldn’t just guess. He needed to be sure.

Once he figured out the killer he’d go back to looking for fake evidence to frame Ten as Indigo, seeing as he seemed the more suspicious of the two, and he couldn’t bring himself to frame Winwin. Finding the killer seemed more important right now, seeing as they only had a few precious hours left.

Yuta had picked everything up the day before after trashing it, but even though he had done his best to copy how it originally looked, it still seemed off. He didn’t like it.

He went back to the bathroom to double check for clues he knew he wouldn’t find. As expected, the only thing out of place was the handprint, which he had yet to wipe away. It was all he had, after all.

With a sigh, he knelt down by it, knowing full well he’d find nothing new. It was exactly the same as the day before, albeit a more dull color. He sat down on the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. How the heck was he supposed to find a killer who left nothing to go by?

He looked at the dark space below the sink, overcome with the urge to hide and never come back out.

His gaze fell upon a white triangle of paper poking out from behind one of the pipes, barely noticeable, but just eye catching enough to pique his interest. He scooted closer, carefully tugging it from where it was stuck between the pipe and the wall.

The paper was damp and wrinkled, but he could still make out the words written on it. It was a list of their names, scribbled out somewhat messy yet still readable handwriting. A few names were crossed out - Chenle, Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Taeil, Taeyoung, Jaemin, and Yangyang, respectively. Yuta frowned when he saw his own name had been crossed off as well. What was it for? He had originally assumed it was a list of those that had died, but as he read over it he quickly realized that wasn’t the case.

_I know your handwriting. What’s this for?_

When Yuta saw that one name was underlined, he felt his heart break. He had a pretty good guess on what it was for, and he had to hide it. He couldn’t let the others see it, not yet. Not until he figured out what it meant on his own, so he was sure it wasn’t incriminating for the one that wrote it.

_I’m keeping your secret safe, see? I hope you’re happy._

_And I really, really I hope it’s nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may seem hard to tell who Indigo is, especially since I've added a ridiculous amount of red herrings throughout the entire story, so I'll give you a tiny clue on how to figure out who he is.
> 
> There are hints in the wording - some words have double meanings, you know. Throughout the entire story, what he says and what he thinks aren't always what they seem at first glance. Also, just to help you narrow it down a bit, I'll tell you this: I _have_ written from his perspective before. Hope that helps! ;)


	14. The Last Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long, I couldn't fit the trial into that last chapter! This one is a bit of a shorter chapter, since it's almost like the second part of chapter 13.

Doyoung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers itching for something stable to hold onto. His instincts were screaming for him to run. All trials made him nervous, but this one was different. He could sense something in the way Yuta spoke, something that made his fists clench.

“It was hard to find evidence,” Yuta was saying, voice loud, commanding attention. The chairs had been moved, so they were in a rectangular shape as if sitting around an invisible table. Yuta was at the head of the imaginary table, holding himself with a self assured, confident aura.

Yuta was the one that was under suspicion for being Indigo, so why did it suddenly seem like he was the one in control?

“Other than the knife and the handprint, there’s nothing. The killer didn’t leave us many physical clues, but…” he paused, his gaze sweeping the room in an almost condescending manner. “If we figure out his motive, we’ll find him. I’m sure of it.”

“A motive?” Haechan echoed. “You mean other than avoiding turning into a human marshmallow?”

Doyoung hid a smirk at that, unable to help himself despite the situation they were in.

“These kills aren’t random,” Yuta insisted. “The killer could’ve easily gone after someone who was bunking alone, but he didn’t. He picked two victims.”

Doyoung frowned, considering his words. “But what if he just wanted to end the game faster? I always assumed that’s why most of the killers murdered two people...so they could spare some of us from being in the same situation.”

“Chenle was defending himself,” Jisung said. “He ran into Lucas while hiding evidence and panicked. Maybe this killer was in the same situation.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “As if! The coward killed them in their sleep!”

Jisung winced, his arms crossing defensive over his chest. “It was just a suggestion.”

“It doesn’t seem like an act of self defense to me,” Xiaojun said gently. “But I’m sure the killer had his reasons for going after two of them. It’s probably to end the game faster, like Doyoung said.”

Yuta cleared his throat to get the group's attention, and Doyoung found himself once again wondering how he had managed to gain leadership without anyone elses’ knowledge.

“I think it’s more than that,” Yuta said. “The killer could’ve easily picked off those in their own room.”

“But if they were bunking alone too it would be obvious if the two loners died and the other two didn’t,” Haechan pointed out. “They’d put suspicion on themselves that way. It makes sense to target a room of two. And, I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

Yuta glared at him, not even bothering to hide his distaste. “No one ever said the killer was for sure bunking alone. Doyoung and Johnny are still suspects, remember?”

“So you didn’t narrow it down at all? I thought you said you’d be able to figure it out,” Johnny said sharply. “So much for being our best chance.”

“I told you, we need to know the motive, first!” Yuta sighed, as if he was already sick of this meeting. Sick of _them_.

He had changed so much over the past couple days, and Doyoung didn’t like it. Yuta was no longer looking after the group, he was looking after himself. _Isn’t that our fault? We’re the ones that accused him of being Indigo. We cut him off from the group, treated him like a criminal without proof. No wonder he doesn’t have much patience for us._

“Can we switch subjects for a bit? We still have an hour and a half before curfew, so we have time, right?” Doyoung asked, flinching under Yuta’s hard gaze.

Jisung turned to look at him, unsure. “What else is there to talk about?”

“Indigo,” Doyoung said. “I...I’m sure it’s Ten. I was too afraid to say anything during the last trial, but he’s not here now.” He took a deep breath, readying himself. “It’s just that...did any of you guys see how defensive he got? He had this look in his eyes, like he was ready to make a run for it..”

“Wouldn’t anyone be scared after being accused like that?” Xiaojun asked.

“He wasn’t just scared, he looked like his life had just flashed before his eyes,” Johnny said, backing Doyoung up. “It was a bit too extreme, if you ask me.”

“We can talk about this later,” Xiaojun said. “It’s more important to find the killer first, right?”

Doyoung expected Yuta to agree with him, but instead he shook his head, his eyes focused intently on Doyoung.

“Go on,” he coaxed. “The more info we have on Indigo the better.”

Doyoung hesitated. “Well, that’s all I have, really. That and the fact that he had been going under a fake color this whole time. We never even found out what his real color was. The fact that Winwin kept that a secret for so long doesn’t make sense. Do you think it was just to protect his friend? Because, if so, why accuse him all of the sudden?”

“He probably changed his mind or something,” Yuta said dismissively. “We’re all in a tough situation right now. He might’ve realized that keeping that lie a secret was putting us in danger.”

“So heroic,” Haechan said sarcastically. “He decided our lives were more important than Indigo’s after how long? The length of the entire game?”

“We don’t even know if Indigo is Ten,” Xiaojun reminded them. “I’m still suspicious of Kun.”

“I think it’s Renjun,” Johnny said. “I don’t know if now is really the best time to discuss this, but he just seems like the most likely out of all of us. Did you see how he lost it during the last trial?”

“But if he was Indigo, then wouldn’t he have let us vote off Xiaojun?” Jisung pointed out. “That wouldn’t make sense.”

Haechan shook his head. “Indigo likes his rules. The killers always die, that’s just how it works. I don’t think it’s him, but if Indigo was in that situation he’d do that same thing.” 

“I don’t think so. Renjun was talking about Indigo wanting a winner, don’t you guys remember? He said, ‘I’d rather die than give him what he wants.’ Renjun was smart, he knew what he was talking about. He let himself be voted off just to spite Indigo,” Doyoung said.

“It seems unlikely that it’s him,” Xiaojun agreed.

“I’m not convinced,” Johnny said, his mouth forming a stubborn line.

Haechan stood up, phone in hand. “You’re the most pigheaded one in this room, you know that? Renjun never did anything to you!” He shoved his phone in front of Johnny’s face. “Here, you want your proof? His color is Coral, just like he said it was. I shouldn’t have to prove this to you, but I won’t let you drag his name like that!”

“That means nothing,” Yuta said. “Indigo could always have a fake color in his phone.”

“We have a list of colors, and Indigo is on it. Surely he wouldn’t have a fake color in his phone, or we’d know right away,” Jisung said.

“Unless one of those colors is his fake one, and he didn’t add all of the real ones to throw us off? Maybe Winwin’s color really was Olive, but Indigo didn’t put it on the list to make him seem suspicious,” Yuta said.

Johnny groaned, rubbing at his temples. “This whole color thing is too confusing. Can we figure out who killed Ten and Winwin first, please?”

“Fine,” Haechan said. “But don’t think I’ve dropped this. I know Renjun is innocent.”

“Guys, please,” Jisung begged. “Stop fighting over this.”

Haechan relented, returning to his seat. Jisung moved closer to him, grabbing onto his sleeve for comfort. Yuta cleared his throat once more, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, and Doyoung gulped.

-

“Does the method seem to point to a motive?” Xiaojun asked, seemingly unaffected by the way Doyoung was eyeing him. He was a suspect, but not a big one. _If he were guilty he’d be a bit more defensive,_ Haechan thought.

No one seemed overly suspicious. Haechan usually had the feeling that the situation was in control, that Yuta and Renjun knew what they were doing. They always solved it at the end. This time, however, Renjun wasn’t here, and he no longer trusted Yuta.

“Doesn’t seem like it to me,” Johnny said doubtfully.

“There has to be one,” Yuta insisted. 

Jisung leaned over to whisper in Haechan’s ear, too quiet for the others to hear. “If only someone was acting strange. I can’t tell who it is at all.”

“Strange how?” he asked, copying Jisung’s low tone.

Jisung paused. “I don’t know...like acting aggressive or something. Like they have something to hide.”

Haechan’s gaze flickered over to Johnny on their own accord, giving away the small suspicion brewing in his mind, burying the other one he had that he didn’t want to acknowledge. “You think so?” He asked, a little bit louder. Hope seized his chest, and he chased the feeling without even thinking. That made sense, didn’t it? He had attacked Haechan unprovoked. He must be guilty of something.

“Have something to want to share with the group?” Yuta said, almost dryly. He was getting fed up with them, that much was clear.

Haechan noted the way Jisung grabbed at his arm, smiling at the comforting gesture. “Yeah, I do. I think it might be Johnny.”

Johnny sputtered. “Where is this coming from? Are you still mad at me because of earlier? You know it was just I’m trying to find Indigo!”

“You attacked me!” Haechan snapped, jumping to his feet. “That doesn’t seem like the behavior of an innocent person to me! Besides, no one else seems suspicious!”

_Someone does, and you know it. Just say something before it’s too late and he gets away with it._

“I’m not the killer and you know it,” Johnny said, and Haechan cracked.

He could practically feel his heart crumbled. “You’re right,” he said. “I know it’s not you. Just...please, let’s get this over with.”

“What are you talking about? You know who it is?” Xiaojun asked, unsure. Yuta seemed equally confused, but rather than say anything he simply watched Haechan with an unreadable expression.

Jisung stood up as well, pulling Haechan back. “What are you saying?” He asked, voice pinched with panic. “It’s Johnny, it has to be. Who else…” he went silent, seeing the look in Haechan’s eyes. “Please,” he begged, now shaking. “Please don’t.”

“I don’t feel pity for you guys anymore,” Haechan said bitterly. “Once you take a life you no longer deserve mercy.”

“It’s Jisung?” Doyoung asked. “How do you know?”

“I’ve known since yesterday. He’s different now,” Haechan explained, prying Jisung’s fingers from his sleeve. “His handprint fits. He has his own room. He wanted to finish what Chenle started, and killed Jaehyun’s roommates. He even killed them in the same way. It fits.”

“Jisung,” Yuta said softly, almost sympathetically. “Do you have a defense?”

“What’s the point? I don’t have any friends left. Just vote me off,” he said numbly, sitting back down. Despite being taller than Haechan, Jisung seemed so small and fragile. Haechan turned away from him, and pulled out his phone to vote.

_Goodbye Jisung! Your friends will miss you! Only one kill left, and then you guys will be free! You five have come so far, so close to winning. Too bad you’ll have to sacrifice one of your own to do so. Who will it be? Eeny meeny miny moe…_

Haechan didn’t want to think about that, so he turned his attention away from the projector. Jisung had yet to walk towards the door, as if rooted to the floor.

“Go,” Haechan snapped.

Jisung flinched like a kicked dog, then slowly began to trudge across the floor, dragging his feet. When he reached the door he stopped to look over his shoulder, a wounded expression on his face. Haechan knew that it was Jisung’s fault, but he couldn’t help but pity the boy, just a bit. And maybe he’d forgive him someday. They had been friends, after all.

“Goodbye,” Jisung mumbled, then took the final step through the doorway.

Now Haechan was truly alone. He had lost everyone important to him.

What else did he have to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the end, and to revealing who Indigo is!


	15. Last One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience! Here's the next chapter, hope you guys like it!

Somehow, deep down inside of him, he knew he’d be picked. As he sat in bed, staring at the text message - he was bunking alone, so there was no need to be subtle - he realized that he was expecting it.

_ You’re the last killer, which means the game is almost over! It also means that you’re automatically a winner, since there won't be a trial! How does it feel, knowing you’ve beat my game? It’s a game of luck, and you survived the odds. I’m kind of sad to see that it’s ending, but I’m proud of you four that will be escaping. You’re better, stronger people now, all because of this. See, I’m not so bad, am I? I’ve turned you into survivors. _

The words were twisted and horrible, and yet they almost made sense. He could see how Indigo thought, what his goal was. He thought he was helping.

“If you were still alive, I’d take you to therapy as soon as we got out of this place,” he said, almost fondly. He didn’t understand what he felt anymore, but he knew for sure he didn’t fully hate him, despite everything he had put them through. “You’re sick,” he continued, his voice breaking. “I thought I could trust you.”

He turned off his phone, unable to look at the message any longer. It wasn’t until he laid down that it struck him that he’d have to kill someone tomorrow.

And unlike those before him, Yuta would have to live with the consequences of his actions for years and years to come.

-

Johnny sat at a table with Doyoung, neither of them saying anything as they ate. Something heavy and bitter weighed down on Johnny’s tongue.  _ Guilt,  _ he realized. He hadn’t spoken to Haechan since their fight during the last trial, and it was starting to gnaw at him.

The other three were at a table together, all talking in hushed tones. Maybe talking about the killer, maybe talking about Indigo.

The game was ending soon - it would end  _ today _ . After all they had been through, and after all the friends they had lost, it was almost over. Only one more death, and they’d be free.

How messed up was he, that he looked forward to it?

“Johnny, can I ask you something?” Doyoung asked quietly, breaking the silence and pulling Johnny from his own disturbing thoughts.

Johnny nodded, forcing himself to take another bite of his cold breakfast.

Doyoung glanced over at the others to make sure they weren’t listening, and then spoke once more. “Please tell me truthfully...are you the killer? It doesn’t matter if I know, because there won’t be a trial. After this next kill, there will be four of us left, and we can go free. I just need to know, because-” he stopped, his eyes intently fixed on the table.

“Yes?” Johnny gently coaxed.

“If you are the killer, please don’t kill me. You’re all I have left, and I...I don’t want to die yet.” Doyoung’s eyes were glossy with tears, and Johnny took his shaking hand in his own and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I’d never dream of it,” he said. “I’m not the killer, but if I were, the thought never would have crossed my mind.”

Doyoung turned to look at the other three. “Then it’s one of them. You know...you and I should stick together today. We both need to get out, okay?”

“Agreed,” Johnny said. “We’ll escape, I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be sure of anything anymore?” Doyoung said, but he had relaxed, and now had a half smile growing on his face.

They only had to survive one more day, and then they’d be free.

-

He knew this wasn’t good for him. His mind was poisoned with grief, and he was only helping to feed into it, but soon he’d lose this. He’d lose his friends for a second time.

“They’ll take you away once we get out,” Xiaojun said, hugging his knees to his chest. His head spun from the putrid smell that filled the room, clinging to his clothes and soaking into his skin. “Yuta will want to tell the police. And we should, but…”

Even if they didn’t tell anyone, and Yangyang and Hendery weren’t taken away to be buried, they’d still decompose eventually. They were dead, no matter how badly Xiaojun wished otherwise. Pain seized his chest, and he let out a sob, clutching at the front of his shirt. He had never felt so much, been so overcome with sorrow. The weight of the loss he had experienced hung so heavily over him it physically hurt, and in the moment, he couldn’t picture himself ever feeling better.

“I have to leave you, and I know it, but I don’t think I can,” he whispered, then took in a shaking breath. “I shouldn’t be here. It’s not good for me.” He didn’t make a move to leave, not able to follow through with his own words.

How could he walk out of the room knowing he’d never be able to come back? The game was nearly over, and once it was, he’d lose them. He needed to stay while he still could. And yet, if he stayed, he’d end up losing himself.

“I have to go,” he said, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m sorry, I have to.”

He gave one last glance over his shoulder, searing the image of the two motionless figures on the floor into his mind, and then he slammed the door closed behind him. He rested his forehead on the wooden doorframe, his heart feeling as if it had just shattered into a million pieces.

“Yangyang, Hendery...please forgive me,” he gasped out, fingers curling in on themselves as he cried. He stood there for who knows how long, apologizing even though he knew they couldn’t hear him, holding onto the wall for support.

Would it ever get better? Would he ever be able to let go, to move on with his life without his two best friends by his side?

A part of him hoped the killer would find him and pick him to be the last victim, but he knew that he couldn’t let himself lose the game, not at this point. Someone had to carry on Hendery and Yangyang’s memories, and he knew things about them that no one else did. He was the only one left that knew about their late-night conversations, that only one remaining that had been there when they snuck out in the middle of the night to play in the rain, and only he knew about the way Yangyang had held the two of them close when they had come back in, shaking from the cold and soaking wet.

No one else had felt the feather-soft graze of Hendery’s lips, or been there to see the way the other two had looked at each other behind closed doors.

Eventually, after what felt like years, Xiaojun pulled himself up, his back aching from being hunched over for so long. He told himself he’d be strong, but all he had done was cry, crumbling under the pain of losing the two people he loved most of all.

It took all his willpower to walk away from that room. The only reason he could was because he knew Hendery and Yangyang weren’t really there. Sure, their bodies were, but it wasn’t  _ them _ .

He didn’t realize he was walking to the cafeteria until he was standing in front of the open doors. Check in had become a thing of the past, since it no longer mattered. Someone would die, and they didn’t need to worry about figuring out who it was, so there was no point in narrowing down times and knowing where everyone was.

Johnny and Doyoung were there, so Xiaojun joined them. He hadn’t realized how badly he missed this sort of thing. He had spent the past, what? Three days in the graveyard? Three days of sitting on the floor, crying and talking out loud to no one, wishing for the dead to come back like a crazy person. It had seemed like so much longer that he was there, only leaving to sleep, participate in trials, and occasionally eat.

“Are you okay?” Doyoung asked. “You look awful.”

Xiaojun had no doubt of that. He had been crying so much his eyes must be red, and he hadn’t showered since Hendery died. He felt ashamed, knowing he had let go of himself to the point of forgetting to do basic tasks.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, not sure if he believed himself or not. “I just need to eat something, I think.”

“It’s nice to see you, Xiaojun,” Johnny said quietly, and Xiaojun’s throat tightened. He had cried so much the past few days, surely he was close to drying up.

“I’ll go get you something from the kitchen,” Doyoung said quickly, standing up before Xiaojun had the chance.

Soon Doyoung returned with a plate of steaming hot rice and eggs, and a large glass of water.

“You look parched,” he explained, handing him the glass. “Make sure you eat slowly. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”

“Thank you,” Xiaojun said numbly. He didn’t have much of an appetite, especially not while he reeked of death and decay. If the other two noticed the smell, they didn’t say anything, which he was grateful for. He ate as much as his stomach could handle, and then downed half the glass of water.

“Feel better?” Johnny asked, and Xiaojun nodded.

Johnny and Doyoung exchanged looks.

“Hey, Xiaojun, do you want to stay with us? Johnny and I were going to pack. You can join us if you’d like,” Doyoung offered.

Xiaojun agreed, not wanting to be alone again just yet. He had missed being in the company of someone other than the corpses of his dead friends.

He followed the two of them up the stairs, and for the first time in days, he felt like he might be able to make it in this cruel, lonely world after all.

-

He found Yuta in an empty classroom, sitting with his back to the door.

Haechan stood there for a moment, waiting, but Yuta didn’t move. “Hey,” he said, making the older boy jump.

Yuta turned to look at him, his expression blank but his eyes full of fear. “Why are you here?” He asked, voice hoarse, as if this was the first time he had spoken all day. Haechan wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

“You know why,” Haechan said, and Yuta turned back to stare out the window, his shoulders slumped.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

“We don’t have a choice. You know that.” Haechan took a step closer.

Yuta stood up, though he didn’t turn away from the window. “What if I won’t? Indigo won’t know. What can he do to stop me?”

“Indigo could still be alive,” Haechan pointed out. “We don’t know who it is. He could be any one of us.”

Yuta was silent, though Haechan could sense that he wanted to say something. In the end, he didn’t, simply held up the knife he had been fiddling with. “Is this too barbaric?” He asked. “I’d rather a gun. It would be over faster that way.”

When Yuta turned around, Haechan saw that his eyes were full of tears.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and Haechan gave him a small smile.

“I lost all of my friends. Nothing else will ever hurt me the way that watching Jisung walk through those doors did. Just get it over with quickly, okay? It’s not fair that others have to be kept waiting. The sooner this is over, the sooner you guys can leave.”

Yuta sighed. “You’re right. I just don’t want to be the one that has to do it.”

“I forgive you in advance,” Haechan said, trying to lighten the mood, but Yuta’s face only darkened further.

“I won’t forgive myself,” he said tightly.

Haechan knew that he had the hardest role in the game. He’d have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life. And what happened if the situation was investigated, and Yuta’s fingerprints were discovered on the weapon? Game or no, he’d be given a life sentence.

“Don’t get caught,” Haechan said. “Kill me, but don’t get caught.”

“I promise,” Yuta said. “And I’m sorry.”

“I already forgave you,” he said, and pulled Yuta into a hug, closing his eyes and letting himself take comfort in it. Yuta hugged him back, and Haechan smiled, feeling perfectly safe despite the cold blade pressed against his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Have any theories? I love to read them, so don't be shy, comment away!


End file.
